Catch a Falling Star
by CrissColferL0ve
Summary: Blaine Anderson's life hasn't gone as planned. Having resorted to selling his body, he never believes he'll find anyone who'll truly love him, but then he meets Kurt Hummel, a boy who is willing to embrace even the deepest, darkest parts of his life. But is it fair for Blaine to allow Kurt into a life so dark or will love be enough to get them through?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, I own nothing. Someone should punch me in the face for posting another fic, but I felt like posting something to motivate myself because I've been awful with fic lately. I'll update Frozen and FILIASS soon if anyone cares, but yes, this is Prostitute!Blaine and I got the idea while listening to How Do You Love Someone? by Ashley Tisdale (shh) and at the beginning it felt really Blaine to me and then I kept listening to it and I was like OHGOD THIS IS ABOUT A PROSTITUTE? and the idea was born (as if 9 wips is not enough, thank you, brain). I've read two prostitute!kurt fic in the past and one was just smut, so this is prostitute!blaine with lots of angst and tears (yes good). The summary took an hour and a half to complete and a huge thanks to denise hearteyesanderson for helping me with it (we pulled out so much hair i swear to god).**

**_Warnings: _sex between Blaine and men who are not Kurt (for now ahem). I can't promise there won't be non con stuff or violence etc. in coming chapters, because I have so much angst planned for this, but I'll warn in advance in case there is anything that might trigger anyone. Mostly just sad broken lost!Blaine. I think that's it.**

**I hope you like it :)**

* * *

_I've walked around broken, emotionally frozen,  
getting it on, getting it wrong._

**Chapter 1:**

It was the only time he felt wanted, the only time he felt that he was worth anything, like he was attractive, appealing, but never beautiful, no matter what the 45 year old man with his suit pants around his ankles whispered roughly in his ear, followed by a string of expletives and words of degradation. Sometimes, Blaine would close his eyes and pretend, envision himself with a life, with someone to love, someone who loved him back, a boy who would smile at him and tell him he was beautiful and mean it. He would close his eyes and pretend that he was with the imaginary boy, that the boy was making love to him, carefully, cherishing him, but often the thrusts inside him became too rough and the pretence was shattered.

The only consolation was the wad of bills left on the bedside table, or on the sink in the toilets, or on the damp ground in the side lane by the quiet, little wine bar that was filled with not-so-quiet people, with big characters and even bigger egos.

Blaine closed his eyes as the hands on his hips tightened and he knew it was almost over, knew that in an hour, he would be back home, curled into the corner of the shower, scrubbing himself clean, leaving his skin red raw and painful. The guy finished with a loud, gruff cry and he shuffled away, pulling his pants back up, before smoothening his clothes out and tidying his hair in the mirror. Blaine immediately redressed and sat on the edge of the fancy, hotel room bed to tie his shoelaces. He took his time, because he had to wait for his money and the guy had promised a hefty amount for an hour of Blaine's time, a lot more than what he usually made.

Blaine knew the story. This guy had never even contemplated coming out of the closet. He had gotten married, had kids, a good job, but none of that was enough, because 'John Smith' (they all called themselves 'John Smith') liked men and 'John Smith' would pay men (or boys, in Blaine's case) any amount they wanted to show him a good time whenever he could get time away from 'Mrs Smith'.

Blaine had been with this one once before. He didn't often deal with the same clients a second time but he had offered extra and Blaine needed the money. Although he didn't like him much, he definitely wasn't the worst Blaine had encountered. There had been several worse, in fact. For example, there was John 'call me daddy' Smith, who liked to pull hair and for Blaine to boost his ego by telling him he was too big (he wasn't). There had also been 'Mr X' ("_just call me Mr X_") who had flung a pair of fishnets at Blaine and then promised to pay him double if he allowed him to call him Mona (Blaine didn't ask why).

Blaine hated it. He hated all of it and hatred was the only thing he felt any more. He didn't have friends, or a family, or anyone he could turn to when he needed help or a shoulder to cry on. He didn't have anyone. The only time he got to be close to someone was when he was working and sometimes, he needed that, just to feel the warmth of an embrace, of another body close to his own, but later, he just felt used and dirty.

"Did you like that?" 'John Smith' asked, once he was satisfied with his attire.

Blaine lifted his gaze from his shoe laces. "Sure," he told him, voice lifting with faux enthusiasm. "It was great."

It had been so great that Blaine hadn't even come. He rarely did, unless they demanded it. Sex wasn't something that gave him any kind of pleasure, not really. Sometimes, it felt good, because sometimes, they touched him and some of them were good enough actors that they made it seem real, but he knew, he always knew that it was an act.

'John Smith' gave him a smug smile and dug his hand inside his wallet to pull out some cash. "I'll leave it here," he told Blaine, as he laid the bills out on the dresser.

Blaine nodded and went back to tying his shoes. He could feel the man's eyes on him (he didn't know what colour they were) and it made him feel nervous, under interrogation, but he didn't let on. He simply finished tying his shoes and then stood up. He walked across the room and had no choice but to pass the man to retrieve his money. He ignored the pressure of the big hand squeezing his left buttcheek and the sound of low laughter and grabbed the money, before leaving the room quickly. He didn't look sideways once until he had left the hotel entirely and gotten far down the street.

* * *

Kurt had seen him before. He'd seen him by the theatre, in the coffee shop, sitting on the park bench. He had seen him reading a newspaper and buying a soda and ordering a sandwich. He stood out, no matter how hard he tried to blend in and on more than one occasion, Kurt had gotten up the courage to go say hi, but the boy always stood up and walked away, out of the coffee shop, or the grocery store, or the park gate before he ever had the chance.

He was always by himself, always staring off into the distance like his mind was elsewhere. Kurt couldn't tell what colour his eyes were, he had never gotten close enough to be able to tell. He had dark hair, always gelled down like a helmet on his head. His clothes weren't right for him, though, Kurt couldn't help but notice that fact. They were very ordinary and this boy, he was anything but ordinary.

Yes, Kurt had undoubtedly seen him before, but he had never seen him like this. Kurt was sitting in the window of a random coffee shop when it happened. He hadn't been paying very much attention, but the speed at which the figure was running made him look up and when he did, he saw him, the dark haired boy. The boy stopped and looked around quickly, as if he was being chased and then his shoulders seemed to rest when he realised no one was there. He slid into a seat by the door, one of the chairs that was reserved for customers who smoked, probably, and dug a hand into his pocket, seemed to feel for something, then pulled it back out again, but he hadn't taken anything from it.

He was flushed, cheeks pink and forehead beading with sweat. He was close enough to the window that Kurt could study him. His eyes were perhaps a shade of brown and they were wide and filled with what Kurt conjectured to be fear. His chest was rising and falling quickly and he kept closing his eyes for brief periods and then opening them and looking around warily again.

Kurt wasn't sure what it was about this boy, but he needed to know him. He'd gone on dates in the past few months since he had arrived in New York, but none of them had amounted to anything but awkward kisses in the car before he said thank you and gone up to his apartment alone. None of the guys he had met had sparked such an interest in him. He had to talk to him, to say something, anything.

* * *

Blaine's heartbeat seemed to have retreated back to a healthy, steady rhythm and he relaxed in his seat. He wasn't sure just what it was that he feared after each job, but once they were done, he always found himself running until he was sure he was far, far away from whatever guy he had just had inside of him. His legs were tired from running (and from standing bent against the wall) and he desperately needed to shower, but he needed a minute, just to catch his breath, to allow his blood time to stop racing in his veins. It was a nice day, the sun was high and blinding and people were laughing and chatting and shouting and the aroma of coffee was close and appealing.

"Mind if I join you?"

Blaine's eyes shot up immediately, expecting to see a familiar face, or perhaps a not so familiar one who had heard things about him and was hoping for a demonstration, but when he lifted his head, he did not see a middle aged man smiling sleazily at him. Instead, there was a boy, about his own age. He was tall, with rich, brown hair swept back on top of his head. His eyes were blue, or maybe green and he was smiling and it was...nice.

The boy, however, had obviously seen the expression of horror before Blaine could stifle it, because he said, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to impose. It's just that...it's a nice day, much too nice to sit indoors and all the other outdoor tables are full."

Blaine looked around and sure enough, the three seats next to him were the only ones free.

"I come bearing coffee," the boy told him and only then did Blaine notice the paper cup in either of the boy's hands. "I don't know what you like, so I thought a latte was safest."

Blaine didn't say anything, he just stared and then looked down at the table. It was scratched and had tiny granules of salt on it.

"So, can I sit down?"

He looked up again and shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "Where are my manners? Please, sit."

The boy beamed at him and it gave him an odd sense of warmth. He sat down, back straight, and pushed the steaming cup towards Blaine.

"Thank you," Blaine said, meeting his eyes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, nothing!" the boy said. "It's just coffee, no big deal."

Blaine nodded, very slowly and wondered if there was some kind of catch. The boy was staring at him, still smiling and Blaine nodded again.

"I don't really have regulars, so if someone told you there would be a discount—"

"A discount?" the boy asked, voice lower, eyebrows furrowed. "A discount...for...what, exactly?"

Blaine eyed him, trying to find a sign of some kind, but he couldn't pick one out. He would have believed the boy was genuine if he didn't know better. People weren't generally nice to people like Blaine for no reason and so, he assumed that the boy had to be a potential customer.

"I can do tomorrow," he told the boy, looking down at the coffee cup. "I'm done for today, so it'll have to be tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he said, almost experimentally. "Um, I'm sorry, but I'm confused. Are you...asking me out?"

Blaine looked up quickly, eyebrows raised. This boy didn't look wealthy enough for that kind of set up. "What exactly are you looking for?" he enquired. "Do you want me to play the boyfriend beforehand? Like, some kind of domestic roleplay?"

The boy, who had been taking a sip of his coffee, spluttered and choked and had to grab some napkins from the side pocket of his over-the-shoulder bag. Blaine watched as he cleaned away the drops of coffee and caught his breath.

"Look, I think you..." He stopped and shook his head. "I wasn't coming out here to...to hit on you, or anything. I promise I'm not some kind of predator, if that's what you were thinking."

"I wasn't."

The boy tilted his head and seemed to study Blaine for a while, then his eyes went wide and he pushed his chair back a little bit. "Were you making fun of me?" he asked, voice louder. "You were trying to be funny, because I'm gay."

Blaine looked at him like he had three heads. "No!" he said. "No, of course not!"

The boy didn't look convinced, but he didn't stand up and walk away, either.

"Look, we just...we're on different pages," Blaine said. "I... I'm gay, too, you know. I just thought that... Why did you come out here?"

The boy seemed to relax. "I just wanted to say hi," he admitted. "I've seen you around before and well, it's silly, but I've kind of been trying to work up the courage to introduce myself for a while now." He was blushing and it looked good on him. "I didn't mean to offend you, or anything. Although I'm a little confused as to why you did get so weird about everything."

Blaine looked at him. He was so honest and real and...

"Oh, God," Blaine gasped. "You're not... I thought—Wow. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just thought..." He stopped, took a deep breath. "I'm Blaine." He held out a hand, then pulled it back, after realising he hadn't yet washed it. He still felt dirty. The boy looked confused. "Sweaty hand," Blaine said, as a means of explanation.

The boy nodded. "I'm Kurt," he said. "I have to ask. When you said d-domestic role play...what did you mean, exactly?"

Blaine felt himself blushing. He took a sip of the latte. "It's not important," he said. "I just misread your intentions."

Kurt nodded like he understood, but Blaine knew that he had no idea.

"You... You've been trying to introduce yourself for a while?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded and smiled. "I've seen you around," he said again. "Just here and there and I—it sounds creepy, but I promise, I don't stalk you or anything—but I see you. Just sitting places sometimes and you look so deep in thought that I kind of can't help but wonder what you're thinking."

Blaine was speechless. Things like this didn't happen to him. Nobody ever noticed him without an ulterior motive.

"It's stupid," Kurt went on. "I know it is, but when I saw you out here, I grabbed the opportunity. If you're frightened of my full-on persona, I won't blame you if you get up and leave, I swear." He laughed nervously. "And I know I said I wasn't coming out here to h-hit on you, but I do want to ask you out. To coffee! I mean, we're having coffee right now," he held up his cup as if to prove it, "but I was thinking more along the lines of a...coffee date?" He looked hopeful, a gleam in his eye.

Blaine wanted to, so badly, but he couldn't bring himself to say yes, he knew what it would mean if he did.

"I can't," he said, voice low.

"Oh, God," Kurt said. "Wow, I've just made the biggest idiot of myself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—you have a boyfriend, don't you?" Blaine shook his head and tried to speak, but Kurt went on, "You're married? Oh, my gosh, I didn't mean to—"

"Kurt," Blaine said, firmly. "I'm not in a relationship, or-or married, or anything like that."

"Oh," Kurt said, calmly. "You just...don't like me then."

"No," Blaine said, truthfully. "I do. I do like you. I mean, I don't know you, but I like you. So far. I just... Honestly? I'd love to say yes, but...I can't."

Kurt only stared, blinking very slowly. "So...let me get this straight. You like me and you want to go out with me...but...you won't?"

Blaine only nodded, eyes on the lid of the coffee cup.

"Is there any particular reason?"

Blaine nodded again and he decided that he had to tell him, because he wasn't going to see him again anyway. "Do you want to take a walk with me for a minute? I'll explain."

Kurt nodded this time and lifted his bag, then stood up. Blaine stood up, too and they grabbed their coffees and started walking down the street.

"So..." Kurt said.

"So," Blaine said, smiling. He had no idea how to bring it up, he didn't generally have to tell many people about his occupation, his life. "I don't know how to say this."

"Just tell me," Kurt urged, stopping to face Blaine.

"Look, when I tell you, please don't...scream or-or start shouting at me in front of people, okay?"

"I have no idea why you would ever get the impression that I would do that. Ever."

Blaine couldn't help smiling. "Okay," he said and the smile vanished. "I can't go out with you—I'd love to. You're...attractive and really nice and everything and I'd love to be able to get to know you, it's just that...guys don't really take very kindly to my...my job."

"Your job," Kurt repeated. His voice was lower when he asked, "Are you...a hit man?"

Blaine laughed humourlessly. "No," he said. "Nothing that glamorous. It's more..." He took a deep breath and then let it out. "I'm a...hooker, I guess that's the correct term." He didn't look up to see Kurt's reaction, but he could only imagine. "I've been selling, uh, sex for about a year now."

He lifted his head very slowly and Kurt was staring eyes wide, but still soft somehow.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I turned eighteen three months ago," Blaine said, feeling ashamed. "I ran away when I was almost seventeen and...well, things didn't go the way I'd envisioned." He shrugged.

"You're so young, Blaine," Kurt said in an almost-whisper.

"Look, I didn't tell you the truth so that you could judge me," Blaine told him defensively.

"I'm not!" Kurt protested. "I'm not judging! I just...you can't like doing that. You can't."

"Of course I don't!" Blaine said. "You think I like not knowing what to expect every time some sleazebag approaches me? Do you think I'm proud of myself? I'm not. I don't even like myself. I can't remember the last time I liked myself."

"That's what I mean," Kurt said. "You're so young and you've been through so much."

Blaine shrugged and sighed. "Now you know. I need to go home and shower, so if you see me around again, just...act as if we've never met, okay?"

"You're embarrassed," Kurt observed.

"Of course I'm embarrassed," he told Kurt. "You're the nicest guy I've had ask me out in...well, ever. You're obviously smart and have a bright future. Of course I'm embarrassed."

Kurt nodded his head and then looked up again. "You... Is that why you were running? Did you...just get off, um, work?"

Blaine made a sound of affirmation.

"I see," Kurt said. "So... Are you still declining my request for a date?"

Blaine looked up, eyes wide. "You...still want to go out with me? Even though you know I'm a whor—"

"Don't," Kurt said. "Don't call yourself names, okay? I get it, you got lost along the way. I don't agree with it, I hate that you think that you have no other choice, but I like you. I don't know you, but I'd like to. So, yes, the offer still stands. Coffee date? You said you're free tomorrow, right?"

Blaine nodded, unable to believe this was really happening.

"Okay, then. I'll mee—oh, my God. You thought I was a...client? Do you call them clients? I'm sorry, I don't know the terms, but you thought I was looking for a discount!" Kurt's cheeks burned a vibrant pink then.

Blaine smiled slightly. "Sorry," he said. "You don't look like you are, but...you can't tell with some people."

Kurt nodded. "It's okay," he assured him, cheeks still coloured. "So, tomorrow?"

Blaine smiled, knowing he should still decline, but he needed to allow himself to have some kind of outlet. "Tomorrow," he repeated.

"Can I get your phone number?"

Blaine shakes himself a little. "I—yes. Sorry. I'm not...used to really giving out my number."

"Oh, if you're not comfortable—"

"No, I am." He smiled for effect. "I am. I'm just... It doesn't happen a lot."

Kurt handed him his phone and Blaine typed his number in. "Thanks," Kurt said, taking the phone back. "I, um, guess you need to go. I'll text you with the details, is that okay?"

"That's fine," he told him. He paused. "Look, are you sure about this? It's okay if you're not. You don't have to do this out of pity or kindness."

"I don't date people because I pity them," Kurt informed him. "And I'm not really that kind, I'm sort of a bitch."

Blaine chuckled. "Okay, well, if you change your mind,"—_please don't change your mind, please don't change your mind_—"you've got my number."

"I have your number," Kurt said, with a nod, "but I won't change my mind."

Blaine looked sceptical, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, well. I'll...go."

"You'll hear from me later," Kurt promised, before giving him a broad grin, a wave and then walking away.

* * *

Blaine finished showering, his skin irritated and red, and ate a microwaved meal, before sitting on the ratty, old couch and switching on the little television set. He wasn't watching it, not really, but the sound filled the silence in the cold, heartless apartment. His hair was still wet, limp curls dripping water down his forehead. He felt miserable, cold and alone. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like he was at home.

The faint buzzing filled his ears, then and he grabbed for his phone, tucked away in his jacket pocket by the door. Nobody ever called Blaine, nobody ever contacted him or offered him friendship. It had to be Kurt. His heart was beating too quickly, fear that the boy had changed his mind filling him. He allowed his finger hover over the middle button, the one that would open the text message from the unfamiliar number, but the curiosity became all too much and he pressed it and the message loaded.

_Hi, Blaine! It's Kurt, from the coffee shop today? I said I'd be in touch about our date tomorrow. Is 3pm okay? I'll meet you at the coffee shop we met at today and we can go on from there. Let me know if that's alright. Kurt._

Blaine grinned from ear to ear, his fingers shaking as he composed his reply.

_Hi, Kurt. That's perfect. _

He fought the urge to ask if Kurt was definitely sure again.

_I'm looking forward to it. Thank you. Blaine._

He re-read the words a dozen times, before sending it off and then going to sit down, phone clutched in his hands, willing another text to come through. A minute or so later, one did.

_Great! I'm looking forward to it, too! I'm in work until 2 and my boss is kind of a jerk, so if I'm a little late, please wait. I WILL get there! _

Blaine smiled at Kurt's words and sent a reply.

_That's okay. I guess I'll see you at 3 (or a little after, depending on how your boss is feeling)._

Kurt was a faster texter than Blaine was, probably because Blaine hadn't had a lot of practice in a while. Kurt seemed like the type of guy everyone liked, he seemed like the type of guy who had a lot of friends.

_Exactly. I'll bring him coffee in the morning, see if I can butter him up a little. He might even let me get out early. It's late, I don't want to keep you up, so I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Blaine._

Blaine knew it was ridiculous, he knew it was cliche and insane, but he could have sworn that he had quite literally swooned. He said goodnight back, before switching off the tv and laying down to sleep, a smile on his lips.

* * *

"Who are you texting?" Rachel asked, coming into the living room area.

"No one," Kurt muttered.

"I know that look, Kurt Hummel. Who is he? Is he cute?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the smile growing on his lips. "His name is Blaine and yes, very."

"Ooh! Blaine!" Rachel enthused. "When do I get to meet him?"

Kurt rolled his eyes a second time. "I only just met him today, Rachel. At least give me a chance to meet him before he is to be subjected to your crazy."

Rachel's eyes went wide and she tugged on Kurt's arm. "So I do get to meet him! You think this one will be serious? Do you think he's the one?"

Kurt smiled and shrugged her off (his sweater was too expensive to have Rachel pulling on it in such a fashion). "Maybe," he told her. "I've got a date with him tomorrow, so we'll see."

He got to his feet and went inside his bedroom, ignoring Rachel's squealing, but when he climbed under the covers of his bed, he would be lying if he said he hadn't squealed a little himself.

* * *

_Hi, Blaine. Sorry, I'm running a little late. The coffee didn't do much for his mood, I'm afraid. I hope you don't mind waiting a little while longer. I'm about to leave and I'll be there as quickly as my feet can get me there. See you soon, hopefully. Kurt._

Blaine relaxed in his seat, the same seat he had been sitting in when Kurt had first approached him. He had gone out early that day to buy a new outfit for the date. He didn't own many date-with-an-exceptionally-gorgeous-not-to-mention-fashionable-guy worthy clothes. Nowadays, it didn't matter what he wore and he usually went for what cost him the least. A lot of men didn't care much for what clothes you wore, they were much more interested in you taking them off.

Now, he felt strange in his clothes, like he had taken a step back in time, to the days when he'd enjoyed school and the company of friends and trying to look good. He wore a red v-neck sweater with a white shirt underneath and a red bowtie. His pants were white and straight-legged and his shoes were black. He hoped he looked okay. He hadn't dressed like this in such a long time and for a moment, he could pretend that nothing had gone wrong, that his life was still on track and that he hadn't fallen to pieces.

"Hi. You look great."

Blaine looked around at the sound of the voice and saw Kurt coming towards him. He smiled.

"Which is more than I can say for myself. I didn't get any time to tidy up, I've been in that office since 9am, so this... Nevermind, you don't care. Coffee?"

Blaine stood up. "I'll get it."

"Oh, no, please. I asked you out. Let me."

Before Blaine could protest, Kurt was walking inside the coffee shop. Blaine followed after him.

"Let me buy," he urged.

"Blaine, it's fine. What's your order?"

"Kurt—"

"What's your order, Blaine?"

"Kurt, just because I do what I do, doesn't mean I can't afford two cups of coffee."

Kurt stopped, turned and blinked at him. "I wasn't implying that you couldn't," he said. "Just tell me your coffee order."

Blaine sighed. "Medium drip. Please."

"Okay," Kurt said, with a slow nod. "Do you want to go get a table?"

He nodded, giving in, then turned around to find an empty table. He decided that the booth in the far corner was the best choice, so he sat there and waited. He felt awful for having accused Kurt of such a thing, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that Kurt had bought his coffee for the very reason Blaine had implied.

"Medium drip."

He looked up just as Kurt placed the cup down in front of him, before sliding into the seat facing him.

"Thanks," Blaine said, taking the cup in his hands. "Sorry for...that."

"That's okay," Kurt assured him. "We can start over. You look great."

"Thank you," Blaine said. "You do, too."

Kurt was wearing a white jacket, with a white shirt underneath, which was covered in dark patterns of some form and was accompanied with a pair of black, skin-tight jeans. A pair of white Docs covered his feet.

Kurt smiled. "Thanks," he said. "I was half-convinced you weren't going to come, you know."

Blaine looked up. "I'd have to be nuts not to."

Kurt flushed visibly. He chuckled quietly. "Sorry I was late, by the way."

Blaine nodded. "So, what do you do, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm an assistant at Vogue dot com. I'm in the boring part, though, you know, paperwork. My boss is a nightmare, but I'm hoping to work my way up. To the fashion part."

Blaine smiled. He could see Kurt working in fashion. "That's amazing," he said. "I mean, it's Vogue."

"You read Vogue?"

"I used to," Blaine muttered, looking back down at his hands around the cup.

Kurt didn't ask questions.

"Um, so, tell me about yourself," Blaine said, hoping to change the subject. "Have you always lived in New York?"

Kurt smiled. "Definitely not," he said. "I'm from Ohio."

"Ohio?" Blaine asked, eyes widening.

"Mm hmm," Kurt confirmed. "Lima."

"Westerville," Blaine said.

"Huh?"

"That's where I'm from. Westerville. Ohio."

"Wow," Kurt said. "That's not so far away."

Blaine nodded. "You wanted to get out. I know what that's like."

Kurt eyed him, but shrugged after a moment. "NYADA was the dream," he told Blaine. "But that didn't happen, so I came here anyway and applied to Vogue and I got the job. New job, new dream and all that."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since after I got done with high school. I got here in August," he told Blaine, "so around two months."

"You like it?"

Kurt nodded. "I love it," he said.

They both sat there in silence for a while, until Blaine lifted his gaze to meet Kurt's.

"You can ask," he told Kurt. "About... Well, anything."

"You don't ha—"

"Ask," he said. "It's okay."

Kurt looked contemplative for a few minutes, but then he looked at Blaine again. "Why did you run away?"

Blaine sighed. "It's a total cliche. Parents didn't like the idea of their son liking boys. There was a lot of bullying and they eventually had to move me from my school to a private one and it was good there for the most part, but I...I serenaded a guy I liked at his workplace. I know, it was dumb, but a friend of my mom's was there shopping that day and she told her and my parents didn't take it very well, so things got...bad. I had to leave."

Kurt gave him a sympathetic look. "I was bullied a lot, too," he said. "Had my first kiss stolen by my number one offender."

"You're kidding."

"No," Kurt said, with a faint smile on his lips. "100% true."

Blaine shook his head. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "I'm over it. I'm working at Vogue, he's waiting tables at Breadstix."

Blaine laughed.

"Can I ask something else?"

His laughter faded away. "Sure."

"How did you get into this? The...prostitution?"

"I had a friend," Blaine said. "His family, they lost basically everything and he ended up out here. Got a gig stripping. He introduced me to a friend of his one night and the friend, he...did this. Slept with people for money. He was with an agency, said it paid well. I thought it was insane, you know, back then? But then money was tight and I couldn't find a job—not many places are willing to hire a guy who hasn't even graduated from high school—and my mind kept going back to that guy and I thought, if he could make as much as he did with an agency, I could make more by myself and...I've been doing it ever since."

"You couldn't have contacted your family?"

Blaine looked away.

"Sorry, not judging. Just..."

"I know," Blaine said. "There are other ways, but this way I don't have to count on anyone else. It's just me, you know? I have rent to pay and I need to eat and doing this, I know I can make enough to live. It's...all I'm good at."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It's the only thing I'm good at that puts food on the table, then," Blaine corrected. "I didn't agree to this date so that you could convince me what I'm doing is wrong. I already know it is."

"I didn't mean to suggest that," Kurt said. "Sorry. This got a little serious for a first date. Subject change?"

"Sure."

"Is there anything you want to ask me?"

Blaine thought for a moment. "Tell me more about you. Anything at all."

"I'm afraid it won't be very interesting," Kurt said, with a chuckle. "Um, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm 18, almost 19. I live with my best friend, Rachel, who did manage to make it into NYADA. Our apartment is kind of amazing, but cheap, so I think someone might have died there once." He smiled. "I have a step-brother, Finn, who is in the army. My dad and stepmom are back home. Dad owns a garage, he's a mechanic. Um, I'm not sure what else. Oh, I really like scarves."

Blaine smiled at that. "Are you done with your coffee?"

Kurt looked down at the empty cup in his hand. "Oh. Um, yes."

"What's your order? I'll get this round."

Kurt smiled. "Non-fat mocha. Thank you."

"Not a problem."

* * *

Kurt watched him standing in the line, waiting for the barista to take his order. He was so small, looked so young. He frowned. He hated that this boy had had to resort to selling himself, hated that he'd done this rather than try to contact his parents. Things had obviously been bad if that hadn't been an option.

Blaine came back a few minutes later, a smile on his face, a coffee in either hand. He placed one down in front of Kurt, before sitting down himself.

"Thanks," Kurt said.

"Tell me why you're still here."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "Here?"

"Here, as in still on this date."

"Oh," Kurt said. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Kind of," Blaine admitted. "You know this can't work, right?"

"I don't see why not." Kurt shrugged.

"Kurt, I—"

"If you genuinely believed that, I don't think you would have come on this date."

Blaine sighed. "I came because I'm not likely to get another offer like this ever."

"Well, then, let me ask you now. Go on a second date with me. Friday night. Dinner."

Blaine stared. Kurt nodded.

"Why?"

"I like you," Kurt said again. "That's all there is to it, I swear. I'm not tricking you into anything, or messing with you. I just like you."

Blaine still looked uncertain, so Kurt sat back and gave him a smile.

"Tell you what," Kurt began, "wait until the end of the date and give me an answer then, okay?"

Blaine sighed and opened his mouth to tell him he couldn't, but Kurt spoke first.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Kurt saw the flicker in his eyes. "Might work some tonight."

He looked embarrassed.

"Have you got plans for dinner?"

"Um, dinner generally involves me and a microwave oven."

"Microwaved meals are terrible for you," Kurt informed him. "Have dinner at my place today."

Blaine looked shocked. "Kurt, I couldn't—"

"Of course you can!" Kurt told him. "Rachel's having dinner with this guy tonight—she goes to NYADA with him—and the last time she had dinner with him, she didn't get home until the early hours of the morning. So, if you think you can stick me out for another few hours, come have dinner with me. I don't want to eat alone, I always make too much."

Blaine looked conflicted.

"Oh, say yes," Kurt urged. "I want you to."

Blaine looked at him for a little while longer, then gave in. "Okay, yes. Thank you."

* * *

Kurt's apartment was so entirely Kurt, but Blaine knew he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Don't look so surprised, we haven't known each other for long, but surely you can tell I'm fabulous."

Blaine laughed. "I can tell," he confirmed. "This is pretty snazzy for a couple of recent high school graduates."

They'd made a stop at the grocery store on the way back to Kurt's, chatting about their old schools and music and glee club, which, coincidentally, they had both been a member of. Kurt placed the shopping bags down on the kitchen countertop and pointed to the centre of the living room. "Rachel thinks it happened there. You know, the death. Or murder, or whatever. She claims she's psychic. Don't ask."

Blaine didn't. He started to unpack one of the bags and Kurt started grabbing pots and pans.

"What time do you need to be gone by?" Kurt asked, his back to Blaine.

"Um, whenever. I mean, perverts and creeps are generally out at all hours." He paused. "Sorry."

"No, that's okay. You can be honest with me."

Blaine stood there awkwardly. "What can I do?"

Kurt turned, opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Any good at chopping vegetables?"

"It's been a while, but I'm sure I can manage." Blaine gave him a smile.

"Brilliant," Kurt said, grabbing a chopping board and a knife. "You know, Rachel would tell me I'm insane for giving a complete stranger a knife and turning my back on him, but I'm sure if I tell you I'm an amazing cook, you'll want to wait until after dinner to kill me."

Blaine chuckled and took the knife. "I'll wait then."

Kurt grinned. "Thank you," he said. "I promise I didn't bring you back here to kill you, either."

"That's encouraging to know," Blaine joked. He got serious again then. "Listen, I won't get offended if you ask questions. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I understand if you have questions. I mean, if things were different and I met a guy who did what I do, I'd have questions."

"I don't want to pry," Kurt told him, unwrapping chicken.

Blaine shook his head. "It's okay. It's probably good for me to get it out. I've never spoken to anyone about this. I don't talk to anyone, really." He laughed nervously.

Kurt was frowning. " Nobody?"

"No."

"You don't have to answer anything."

"Ask."

"Were you scared? The first time?"

Blaine gave a weak laugh as he chopped a carrot into small, diced pieces. "I'm still scared. Every time. It's mostly new, um, people, so I never know what to expect. From experience, the first time could have gone so much worse."

"A lot of weirdos then?"

"You'd probably be shocked if I told you some of the things I've encountered," he admitted.

Kurt gave him a sad smile. "I'll throw those in here," he said taking the carrots and piling them around the chicken in the cooking tray. "So, um, how does it work? I mean, you said you don't belong to an agency, or whatever, so how do you..."

"If you know the right places to hang around, it's easy," Blaine told him with a shrug. "I mean, sometimes it's not, I'm not the only one out there, but most of the time, it's not so hard."

Kurt nodded. "And then, what, you just...get in a car with them?"

"I tend to not go for that option," Blaine said. "I do it on my terms. I never go to anyone's house. I name a hotel, get them to pay for a room and...go there." He was blushing now, embarrassed.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"It's okay," Blaine assured him.

"Can I ask how much you make? I mean, you really don't have to tell me."

"It's okay," Blaine said again. "It depends."

"On?"

"What they want," he told him. "How long they want. $50 an hour and then...you know, extras, depending on...what they want me to do."

"What's the most you've ever made?"

"$400," he informed him.

Kurt's jaw dropped. "That must have been a long night."

Blaine nodded. "Long, exhausting." _Painful_, he did not add.

Kurt placed the tray in the oven and gestured for Blaine to follow him. They went and sat on the couch. Kurt turned to face him.

"Are they all really old?" His nose was wrinkling.

"Not always," Blaine said. "Some of them are young. Some are married with families. Some are old."

"Your first one...?"

"In his forties. Married guy. Kind of not what you'd expect. It wasn't his first time, but he seemed kind of...nervous? Not as nervous as I was—I was, um, I was a virgin going into it. I'd never-never even been kissed." He looked down at his lap. "But I mean, it wasn't so bad. Don't get me wrong, it was awful, but it could have been much worse."

Kurt nodded. "When you say extras...?"

Blaine shifted in his seat. "It's like..." He shook his head. "That night, when I made the $400, I, um, I did some things I'm definitely not proud of. I mean, I'm not proud of any of it, not ever, but that night was... I'd been sick and I had to see a doctor, just in case it was anything... It was only the flu, but I was scared and I went and, um, I had to pay rent that week and I...I didn't have the right amount, so when the guy told me he'd give me $400 for, well, a specialty job, or-or whatever, I said yes. I hated it, I hated every second of it and I don't... The thing is that I can't say I wouldn't agree to something like that again if I got really desperate and that...it terrifies me."

Kurt tilted his head and looked a little teary eyes. "I'll, um, go check on dinner, okay?"

Blaine mumbled something and Kurt stood up and went back to the kitchen to check on the chicken. His occupation (if one could even call it that) had many awful traits. It was degrading and made him feel terrible and sometimes it left him bruised and broken and in a lot of pain and up until he had met Kurt, he hadn't known that it would stop him from ever finding happiness. Of course he had thought about finding someone before, but that had always been a pipe dream. Now that Kurt seemed to like him and he definitely liked Kurt back, things seemed so much more real. He would never be able to have a real, romantic relationship, would never be able to find someone he could spend the rest of his life with. He had to put a stop to this before he wound up too deep.

Kurt returned a little while later, telling him that dinner was almost ready. He sat back down and turned to look at Blaine again.

"I don't want to be rude," Blaine said, sitting up straight, "but I don't think it's a good idea if I stay."

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed and he sat up, too. "Wait, you're leaving?"

"I don't think this is going to work out," he said, which was a huge understatement, in his opinion.

"But why not?" Kurt asked. "I thought we were getting on really well."

Blaine stood up and walked towards the door. Kurt followed him. "We are," he told Kurt. "It's just... It's not you, okay? It's me."

"You're giving me the it's-not-you-it's-me? Really?" His eyebrow was raised.

"Look, you're great. You are and I'm sure you'll make an amazing boyfriend for someone, but that someone isn't me. And I know this is only the first date and I'm counting my chickens on the boyfriend thing, but dates, they can lead up to that and I just...I don't want to let things get that far."

He spun around and started to walk to the door again, but Kurt reached out and touched his arm. His touch was gentle, soft, but still firm somehow. Blaine stopped still at the contact.

"What are you so afraid of?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shut his eyes and took a deep breath, but didn't say anything.

"Look, I know this is sort of a unique set of circumstances, but what you do doesn't change the fact that we've got a lot in common and you're nice and, well, gorgeous and I like you. A lot. And if this progresses to boyfriend stage, then that's sort of great, don't you think?"

Blaine shook his head, still looking the other way. "You don't need a boyfriend who sleeps around as much as I do. You don't need a boyfriend that you can't talk about."

"Can't talk about?"

"What happens if it does get to that point and your friends and family start asking questions? Are you going to make up a life for me? Pretend I'm at school, or that I have a perfect job and a nice, little apartment with a scenic view? I don't have any of those things. That's not who I am. I don't mean to be crude and please, excuse my language, but I let people fuck me for money, Kurt. I'm a prostitute. I don't have friends, or a family, or anything going for me except for my body and when that's gone, I'll have nothing. Not a single thing. You don't need this."

Kurt let out a long breath and gave Blaine's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You'll have me," he whispered. "Even if this doesn't head in the direction of romance, I still want to be your friend."

Blaine let out a shaky breath. "Why?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted, "but I..." He took another deep breath. "I feel like this could go somewhere. Don't you?"

Blaine nodded his head, very slowly, eyes still closed. "Yes," he exhaled. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Blaine felt himself being pulled gradually backwards and then Kurt moved to face him. His eyes were curious, wide and studying and his lips were parted very slightly. He blinked a couple of times and then seemed to let out a long breath and before Blaine knew what was happening, Kurt was leaning in and pressing their lips together.

It was unlike anything Blaine had ever experienced before. There was no brute force, or roughness, or dominance, it was sweet, soft, but firm and although it was just a press of the lips followed by a smack of lips and nothing more, it felt wonderful, better than anything else ever had. It was the first time he had been kissed for reasons other than sex. It was the first time he felt really and truly wanted.

Kurt broke the kiss and leaned back to look into his eyes. Blaine could only breathe, trying to get his heart to find its usual, steady beat again, but before that could happen, Kurt was sliding his fingers between Blaine's and pulling him forward for another kiss. It was harder this time, filled with a lot more intent, but still more gentle than anything else he had ever had done to him. When this kiss ended, he stood back and let out a shaky breath, feeling something inside of him snapping and breaking.

"Just because I'm a whore, doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with you on the first date," he said and he regretted it the moment he said it, but he needed the defence, needed to build the wall back up safely around himself.

Kurt looked stunned. "I wasn't—I can't believe you think that." He shook his head. "It was just a kiss—two kisses. It was just two kisses. I don't have some kind of grand plan to lock you in my bedroom or anything. God. I'm-I'm a virgin. I'm not-not ready for-for that. It was just kissing."

Blaine had known that, of course. "Just... Just k-kissing?" he found himself asking.

Kurt studied him for a moment, then seemed to realise. "Well, no. But that doesn't mean I have some devious plan brewing. It was more than just...just a kiss. More than just kissing. I mean, it was for me."

Blaine swallowed. "It was for me, too," he said, in a faint whisper.

He was rewarded with a smile from Kurt. "Will you stay for dinner?" Kurt asked and Blaine noticed that their fingers were still linked together.

"Okay," he said. "But..."

"I know, Blaine," Kurt said, with a nod and Blaine only tilted his head in confusion. "I know what I'm getting myself into," Kurt explained. "Don't worry. I'm sure you're worth it." He gave his hand a final squeeze, before letting go and turning around, gesturing for Blaine to follow him to the kitchen.

Blaine stood for a few heartbeats more, trying to remember the last time someone had told him he was worth anything. When nothing came to mind, he quickly made his way to the kitchen, where Kurt stood, oven gloves on, the tray in front of him on the countertop. When Blaine walked into the room, Kurt looked up from the chicken and gave him a smile and Blaine allowed himself to imagine what it might be like to have someone in his life that would smile like that just for him.

* * *

**I have 3 chapters of this written so if anyone likes it, I'll update soon. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing. First of all, WHOA THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS. I wasn't expecting that at all! I'm at a bad place with my writing right now I don't know what it is I just feel insecure about it, but the reviews made it better and motivated me to keep going, so a HUGE thank you to every one of you and thank you to rebecca (m-arvel on tumbr) for the pep talk. I love you bro. Okay, so I know the plot isn't exactly thickening as of yet, but it's coming and I wrote out a plan for it last night, so we're all good hopefully. **

**_WARNINGS:_ Blaine X other men. One kind of but not really explicit scene? Some dirty talk and pain. If that's a trigger, then skip right after the part that ends in 11.45 and I'll explain it in simpler terms if needed. I don't think there's anything else, really, so proceed, I hope you like it :)**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

"Hey," Kurt said, sounding flustered. He adjusted the headset and quickly hit send on the email he had been writing. "My boss is in a particularly foul mood today and I can't leave until I finish sending off emails. Where are you?"

"Almost there," Blaine said on the line. A car horn sounded in the background. "I can—"

"No, no," Kurt said, before Blaine could cancel. "I'm almost done, I promise. Almost everyone else has gone home and it's just Isabelle next door and that weird guy with the bandana across the hall, so you could come up and wait if you don't think it's going to be too boring."

He heard Blaine's hum of uncertainty.

"Please?" Kurt added. "I know you've got to, um, work and stuff later today and I don't want to cancel our date, so...come up? I'll call down and let them know to send you in?"

"Okay," Blaine said, after a beat of silence. "Are you sure?"

Kurt grinned. "Take the elevator to floor eight, Blaine."

He ended the call and quickly tidied his desk, before pulling the compact mirror from his pocket to check he looked okay. He had had a hectic day and his boss had gone home after demanding he finish every last bit of paperwork. Kurt sighed and pressed a button and waited until security picked up.

"Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. I'm expecting a Blaine Anderson in the next few minutes. If you could just send him up, that'd be great."

The guy at security grunted back a "'kay," before hanging up. Kurt sat back and waited and a few minutes later, Blaine appeared outside the door, looking lost. He was looking the other way, head twisting as he searched for the correct office.

"Blaine," Kurt said, standing up and opening the door..

Blaine turned and when he met Kurt's eyes, he smiled. He came closer. "I can't believe I'm at Vogue dot com. I can't believe you work here. I mean, I can, because, you know, fabulous and everything," he said, gesturing at Kurt's outfit, "but at the same time, I really can't believe you work here."

Kurt laughed and pulled an extra computer chair across the room so that Blaine could sit next to him. "Paperwork, remember?" Kurt said. "I'm practically a secretary."

Blaine sat down and squinted at the computer screen. "They're wasting your talents, but I guess you have to work your way up, huh?"

Kurt shrugged and sat down, too. "I suppose. It can get tedious, though."

"I'll bet," Blaine said. "Need any help?"

Kurt looked around and his eyes stopped on the pile of letters he had just printed off. "Those need to go into envelopes," he said, pointing at them. "If you don't want to, though—"

Blaine slid his chair across to grab the pile and came back. "Get me the envelopes."

Kurt smiled and handed him a packet. "Not the ideal date, but..." He shrugged.

"This could be fun," Blaine said, folding the first letter. "It's been a while since I've done anything even close to this."

Kurt gave him a smile and started typing the next email. Blaine looked content sitting there, folding paper and sealing envelopes and it kind of broke Kurt's heart a little bit. Blaine hadn't finished school. He had had to face the cruel, harsh realities of the world way before he should have and Kurt complained about his job and before that he had complained about his schoolwork, but none of that compared to the hardship that Blaine had to endure every single day of his life.

"You're staring at me," Blaine pointed out.

Kurt blinked quickly. "Well, you're nice to look at."

Blaine smiled and looked down at his envelope. Kurt returned to his emails and got one sent before looking back at Blaine.

"Wow," Kurt said, looking at the envelopes stacked neatly on the desk. "That was, like, record time, Blaine."

Blaine shrugged one shoulder. "I used to help my dad with his paperwork sometimes," he said, quietly. "So, no one will care that I'm here?" he asked, quickly changing the subject. Kurt never asked about Blaine's family or home life or what had really happened to make him go. He didn't feel they'd been together long enough for that just yet.

Kurt shook his head. "Boss went home. He's got family stuff." He shrugged. "Bandana guy is always on the phone, so he doesn't care and Isabelle is—"

"Choose your words carefully."

Both Kurt and Blaine looked up at the sound of the voice and found Isabelle standing there. Kurt smiled.

"Isabelle is amazing," he finished, with a chuckle. "Blaine Anderson, this is the fabulous Isabelle Wright, though I'm sure you know who she is already."

"Oh, my God, that's Isabelle Wright," Blaine hissed next to him, eyes wide and bright and golden.

Kurt and Isabelle both laughed. "The novelty wears off, trust me," Isabelle said walking inside and sitting on the edge of the desk. She toyed with a piece of fabric that had been laying there. "So, who is this dashing, young man, Kurt?"

"This is Blaine," Kurt said.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh," Kurt said, again. "Boyfriend."

Isabelle grinned and Kurt realised what he had said, but Blaine was still staring at Isabelle like he had just seen a miracle performed.

"You didn't tell me the Isabelle you're always talking about is Isabelle Wright," he said.

"I thought you would have put two and two together," Kurt told him.

"But that's Isabelle _Wright, _Kurt." He looked panicked all of a sudden. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. I'm so pleased to meet you. I think—I mean, you _are _brilliant."

Isabelle looked at Kurt, both eyebrows high. "I like this one, Kurt, where can I get me one?"

Kurt smiled. Blaine still looked completely starstruck.

"Sweetie, your boyfriend is an impressive designer, too, you know," Isabelle said, looking at Blaine. "It's the reason I hired him."

"Oh, God, she hired you."

Kurt laughed again. "Technically, yes, but she's not my boss, unfortunately." He looked up. "Isabelle, I think he's fallen in love. You've converted him."

She hopped up off the desk. "Well, then," she said, "I'd better leave and let you convert him back!"

She said goodbye and left the office, closing the door behind her. Kurt turned to look at Blaine.

"Do I need to get you a glass of water? An oxygen mask? An ambulance?" he teased.

Blaine blinked at him. "Boyfriend," was all he said.

Kurt swallowed. "W-what?" He hadn't been thinking, it had just come out, it—

"Boyfriend," Blaine said again. "You said... You introduced me as your boyfriend. To Isabelle Wright. You said I was your boyfriend."

Kurt looked down and brushed invisible dust off of his pants. "I didn't think that telling her you're a guy I occasionally go out with was appropriate, because that usually translates as, I don't know, fuckbuddy." He shrugged, cheeks burning. "Besides, I didn't know being introduced as my boyfriend was such a huge insult to you."

Blaine's eyes went wide and he sat up straight. "An insult?" he said, voice higher. "Kurt, I didn't—Kurt. If it's an insult to anyone, it's you."

Kurt shook his head quickly, but before he could go on, Blaine continued speaking.

"You need to finish your emails and I've got to—"

"So, are we just going to ignore this?"

Blaine sighed. "No, okay, we'll talk about it."

"It's been three weeks, Blaine," Kurt went on. "Things have been great, at least I think so. I know we have trouble with, um, communication sometimes," which was actually a huge understatement, since Blaine often avoided anything that had to do with his family or personal life, "but I think we've reached boyfriend status, don't you? I mean, we go out and we watch movies and we make out on my couch a lot and unless I've been completely misled by every single romance movie and chick-flick and musical I've ever seen, it seems like we're at that stage. The boyfriend stage. Unless you really, really don't want it, in which case, I don't know how I feel. I mean, if you're not ready just yet, I can deal with that, but if it has to do with you not ever wanting a boyfriend, well, I just don't know if I want to just be your...I don't know, but I don't want to break up and is it even breaking up if we never really were boyfriends? I don't know, I just don't know. But, we can't just not talk abo—"

"Kurt," Blaine said, firmly, reaching out to hold his shoulders steady. "Kurt, you're babbling and possibly hyperventilating." He smiled. "I am flattered that you want me as your boyfriend, I am, it's just that I don't want you to have to worry about me."

"I already worry, Blaine. Putting a label on it isn't going to change that."

Blaine smiled. "I get that," he said. "It's not only that, though. I keep thinking about how you're going to handle telling people about me. What if they ask questions?"

"I don't care."

"You say that now," Blaine said, "but when you're faced with the actual questions, that'll change."

Kurt smiled back. "Be my boyfriend, Blaine," he said. "You already are. It's just a matter of using that word. Boyfriend."

"Boyfriend," Blaine repeated, quietly, still smiling.

Kurt nodded. "Boyfriend."

Blaine tilted his head very slightly. "You're sure?"

Kurt laughed out loud, flung his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him into a kiss. They spent the next ten minutes making out until the guy with the bandana from across the hall rapped on the glass in the door and gave them an unamused look. After that, they laughed until they cried and Blaine couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He was happy. They both were.

* * *

Blaine stood shivering outside _Lapis Lazuli,_ a seedy nightclub filled with the kind of people Blaine so often had to deal with. He dug his hands inside his pockets, hoping to heat them up a bit. It was around 2am and he had been standing there for a good hour waiting for the club to let out so that he could get things over with and go home.

He pulled out his phone to look at the time and he had a text from Kurt. He smiled and opened it.

_Stay safe. I'll call you in the morning x._

He pocketed the phone, still smiling and leaned against the wall, feeling a little bit warmer. Kurt was his boyfriend now. He'd said it so many times out loud that the word sounded foreign to him, but he couldn't stop. Kurt wanted to be his boyfriend and although Blaine knew there would be complications because of his predicament, he couldn't help being ecstatically happy that he had someone who cared, someone else to stay safe for.

"How much you chargin', gorgeous?"

Blaine looked up at the man smirking at him. He was taller than Blaine, but not by much and he was balding. His nose was pointed and he wore a long, beige coat, hands in his pockets. His eyes were small and dark and it made Blaine's stomach turn, but he stood up straight and smiled confidently.

"Fifty for an hour. You want anything special it's going to cost you."

"Special, huh?" the man asked, walking closer. "How about you come with me and tell me all about your specialties?"

He smelled like alcohol and cheap aftershave. Blaine took a step backwards. "Motel down the block. That way." He gestured to his right. "Meet me there in fifteen minutes. Book a room, wait in the entrance hall and we'll discuss my specialties when we've got some privacy."

The man looked sceptical, they always did, but if one refused, another one would always come along and Blaine wasn't going to compromise his safety for anything. He batted his eyelashes and smiled pleasantly and the man's dark eyes raked him up and down.

"Fine," he said, finally. "I want two hours."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "I don't think it'll take two hours."

"I want two hours."

Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Believe it or not, I do have to sleep. I don't really have the time to wait around for you to get hard again so we can go for round two."

"Two hours, $120 and I'll even get you off." The guy winked.

Blaine sighed. "$130 and you won't even have to get me off."

The man shook his head. "That's what the extra twenty is for."

Blaine stared. "You're giving me an extra twenty so that I'll let you get me off," he said flatly. The man nodded a little too eagerly. Blaine let out a long breath. "Okay, whatever you're into. Fifteen minutes in the motel. It's called the Sunshine Paths and it's cheap. The room doesn't come out of my money."

"Done," the guy said, turning around. "See you soon, gorgeous."

Blaine watched him walk away and once he was out of sight, he leaned back against the wall again and sighed. When would it ever end?

* * *

"Hey, you," Kurt said, when Blaine picked up the phone some weeks later. "You busy?"

He cleared his throat. "Hi," he greeted him. "Um, I've got a, um, customer. I mean, not right now, but I'm about to head over to a, um, hotel."

A man had approached him on the street in broad daylight. He'd told Blaine that he worked across the street and a co-worker had pointed Blaine out to him and that he wanted to hire him for a couple of hours. It was a special case, different to anything he had done in a while and although he wasn't up for anything too strenuous, he had accepted, because the guy was offering a large sum of money for his time.

"Oh," Kurt said, but he didn't sound as if he was judging, he never did, not once in the nine weeks they had been dating. "Alright, well, when you're done, do you want to hang out?"

Blaine shuffled his feet uncomfortably and looked at his watch. It was a little after 9pm. He had never told Kurt, but he didn't like anyone to see him after he was done working. He hated himself afterwards and he needed to be alone to deal with that. So far, he had gotten away with it, because since dating Kurt, he had taken to working particularly late in order to avoid any kind of confrontation or questioning. "Uh, how about I see you tomorrow instead?" he offered.

"Why not tonight?" Kurt asked and Blaine cringed slightly at the sound of disappointment in his voice.

"I just... I don't think I'll be much company after working," he said. "I just need to be at home afterwards."

"I could come over," Kurt suggested.

Blaine frowned. He didn't want Kurt to see his apartment and Kurt knew he was always making excuses not to have him over. "Look, Kurt, it's not that I don't want to see you. I'd love to see you," he told him and it was true, if he could have chosen between taking this job and seeing Kurt, he would have chosen Kurt hands down, but he needed the money. His rent was due at the end of the week and he was already behind. "It's just that..." He stopped and took a breath. "This is going to be extra unpleasant and...not to be crude, but I'm probably going to be in some pain afterwards and I really won't be much company."

"Pain?" Kurt squeaked out.

"Look, it's bad enough that you know I'm doing this, I'm not going to go into detail about what exactly I'll be doing today," he said. "And I'm not trying to be cruel, I'm just trying to stop you from worrying."

Kurt snorted, but Blaine could tell that his heart wasn't in it. "I worry about you all the time, idiot," he told him. "How extreme are we talking here?"

Blaine sighed. "Let's just say double the pay for double the act and leave it at that."

"Blaine!" Kurt said, sounding scandalised. His voice came out in a hiss then, "Are you having a _threesome_?"

Blaine would have smiled had he not been so nervous. "Don't worry, I can handle it."

"I know you can," Kurt said. "You just shouldn't have to."

"Kurt," Blaine groaned.

Kurt sighed dramatically. "I know, I know. Don't make a big deal out of your job, I get it. But that doesn't mean I'm not worried about you."

Kurt always worried about him, Blaine knew that and he wished desperately that he didn't have to.

"I've been fine so far, it'll be okay," he said. "I'll call you after, if that'll make you feel better."

"Okay," he said, defeated. "You're sure I can't come over? You can't keep me away forever, you know."

The mention of forever brought about mixed feelings for Blaine. On the one hand, the idea of forever with Kurt, even after only a few weeks, seemed very appealing. On the other hand, he knew they couldn't go on like this forever and that it was just a matter of time before things reached breaking point.

"I know," he said anyway. "But, no, it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll call you before you go to sleep and we'll make plans."

"Okay," Kurt said. "Be careful, okay?"

"I will," Blaine promised. "Have a good night and I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said again. "Just...call me if you need me. The time doesn't matter. I mean, if anything—"

"Nothing will go wrong," Blaine assured him, but he could never be entirely sure that that was true. "But if it does—which is unlikely—you'll be first on my list."

"Good," Kurt said, but he didn't sound at all convinced.

"Okay, I need to get going. I'll call you later. Go do something to take your mind off of this, okay?" Kurt made a sound that suggested that this was impossible. "Thanks for caring," Blaine added, because he was grateful. Nobody had cared about him in such a long time.

"Always," Kurt told him. "Go on, hang up. The faster you get going, the faster it'll be all over."

Blaine chuckled weakly. "Well, I'm booked for two hours, so I don't think it'll go fast no matter what. But, yeah, I need to go. Talk to you later."

"Talk to you later," Kurt told him, before ending the call. He never, ever said goodbye.

* * *

It was like standing in front of two hungry lions and Blaine felt like a weak, helpless, little lamb. They grinned at him, teeth white, straight, bleached, intent and cunning behind their eyes.

"Told you he was pretty," the one who had approached Blaine in the first place told the other guy.

"Yeah," the other one, the one with the dirty, blonde hair said. "He can't be legal, can he?" Blaine wasn't sure, but he thought there might have been an air of concern in the man's voice.

He was well accustomed to being spoken about like he wasn't even in the room. He stood up straight, letting them ogle him with their burning eyes.

"You legal, kid?" the first one enquired. He had darker hair and darker eyes. Neither of them could have been over twenty-five.

It was always hard to tell whether the client (or clients, in this case) wanted him to tell them he was underage.

"I'm eighteen," he said, truthfully. "But I know what I'm doing."

The dark haired one grinned. "I'll just bet you do," he said. "How about you show us what you've got under all those clothes?"

Blaine started to undress immediately. He shed every item of clothing and stood back for them to look. He should have felt more embarrassed, should have been insecure about others looking at him entirely stripped bare, but he didn't, not any more and when he thought about that, it made him feel queasy, because it was like realising he had lost yet another piece of his humanity. He hated it, he hated all of it.

"He's gorgeous, don't you think, Eric?" the dark haired guy said, eyes raking up and down Blaine's body.

"Yeah," the other one, Eric, said. Blaine always hated the guys he slept with, but if he had to choose between the two, he would have preferred Eric. Eric wasn't looking at him like a piece of meat. He was staring, they all did, but unlike the other guy, he didn't look like he was thinking about degrading him, making him feel small, used. He was admiring him.

"What's your name, beautiful?" the other one asked.

"Blaine," Blaine said. He never lied about his name, because it didn't matter. No one cared what he did or who he was. He was just a body, a ghost of a person others used and took pleasure from. They didn't care that he had a brother or that he preferred Diet Coke to regular Coke or that his best subject at school had been history. All they wanted was for him to cooperate and then they'd be gone, out of his life forever like they hadn't just taken another part of what was left of his soul.

"This is Eric," the dark haired guy said, gesturing to the other one. "I'm Andrew and you are my birthday present." Andrew reached out and tipped Blaine's chin up.

"Happy birthday," Blaine said, flatly. He tried to get into it, to make himself look professional, but he was not in the mood today, he just wanted to go home and call his boyfriend.

"It certainly will be," Andrew said, still grinning.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Okay, we've got two hours. Tell me where you want me."

* * *

"And I told her it was much too safe," Rachel said, eyes going to the ceiling. "But, of course, she didn't listen to me and she sang the song and you should have seen it, Kurt, Carmen Tibideaux went _crazy_! Tammy was in tears by the end of it! It didn't help, of course, that I was up next and I always—Kurt! Are you even listening to me?"

Kurt looked up from the screen of his phone. "Hmm?" he asked. "What?"

She gave him a pointed look.

"Sorry, Rachel," he apologised. "My mind is just...elsewhere."

"It always is lately," she said, rolling her eyes. "Really, I thought getting a boyfriend would be good for you, but all it's done is have your head on another planet. Also, when do I get to meet this elusive boyfriend, anyway? It's been _months_, Kurt. What is the issue? You said he's cute. Is he disfigured in some way? Is that why you don't want me to see him?"

Kurt sighed and stood up, phone still clutched in his hand. "No, Rachel, his face and every other part of him that I've seen is absolutely perfect. I'm not hiding him from you, he's just busy."

She followed him across the room. "He can't be that busy if you have dates with him every other night."

"He is," Kurt said. "He's got a lot on."

Rachel didn't look convinced in the slightest. "What exactly does he do? If, of course, he really does exist."

Kurt sighed again and turned to face her. "Look, he's going to call me when he gets off work. I'll get him to say hi to you, okay? Will that get you to lay off?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'm going to do some vocal exercises. Come get me when he calls."

"Of course," he said.

Rachel turned on her heel and went inside her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Kurt looked back down at his phone, willing it to ring, but all that filled the screen was the time.

_11.45pm._

* * *

"That's it, baby," Andrew growled as he thrust roughly inside Blaine again. Blaine was laying on his side, legs bent, Andrew's hands gripping his hips. He had Eric's cock in his mouth. "Suck him good," Andrew went on, speeding up his thrusts. "You were made for this."

A lot of them told Blaine that, that he was made for it, and sometimes, he wondered if he was, if he was put on the earth solely for the pleasure of other men, so that they could do whatever they wanted with him with no complaints, no boundaries.

"Such a good little cocksucker," Andrew said, pressing inside him again.

Eric was moaning quietly, his eyes on his boyfriend, or husband, or whatever he was to him, but Andrew was too busy looking at Blaine's lips, stretched and swollen, to notice. Blaine tried to moan as expected, doing his best to hide the fact that the pain was almost unbearable.

"Bet he's good," Andrew continued. He pulled out entirely and climbed across the bed. "Think I'm gonna have a go at that pretty mouth. You go and try his ass, babe, it's tight."

Eric let himself slide out of Blaine's mouth and he moved out of the way to let Andrew take his place. Blaine closed his eyes as Andrew's cock pushed past his lips and began rocking in and out roughly. He felt Eric coming up behind him and he began slipping in gently. He was grateful for that, because the burning had been almost unbearable.

"God," Eric choked out. "Andy, you didn't prep him enough." Blaine felt Eric sliding out again. His body ached having not been prepped properly. Andrew had requested Blaine allow them to prep him so he hadn't done it himself and he was really regretting having agreed. Eric touched his hip, touch gentle.

Andrew looked up and smirked. "He can handle it," he told Eric. "Bet he loves it, having a thick cock filling up all his slutty little holes."

Eric exhaled and then slid down Blaine's body. He took Blaine's half-hard cock in his hand and then pressed his mouth down over it. Andrew laughed cruelly.

"Bet you love his mouth on you," he told Blaine, eyes wide and glittering. "Little whore."

Blaine didn't like either of them, but he wondered what Eric was doing with an asshole like Andrew. He let out an unintentional moan as Eric's tongue pressed against his slit.

"Yeah, he loves this," Andrew observed. "He loves havi—shit!"

Andrew stopped at the sound of a phone ringing from the other side of the room. Eric stopped, too and watched as Andrew climbed off of the bed and went to grab the phone.

"Who is it?" Eric asked, sitting down next to where Blaine, who was panting heavily and trying with every part of him not to beg for it to end, lay.

"It's my dad," Andrew replied. "I gotta take this."

Eric nodded and Andrew answered the phone, telling his dad to hang on a minute. He redressed and slipped out of the room without another word.

"Um," Eric said, looking down at Blaine. "Time must be almost up now, huh?"

Blaine shrugged, couldn't move. "What time is it?"

"11.43."

"You guys have 17 minutes," Blaine told him. "Better get your money's worth."

Eric shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not into this," he said. "It's not you, or anything, you're hot, you are. I just... This was his idea. It's his birthday and I asked what he wanted and...I was surprised, you know, when he suggested...this, but I said yes, because he was really into it and... Sorry." He shook his head. "This is my first time with a... I'm just... This was Andy's idea."

Blaine only nodded. He didn't really care whose idea it was, he just wanted to go home.

"Did he hurt—did we hurt you?"

Blaine looked up in surprise. They didn't generally talk to him, let alone ask after his welfare. "I'll be okay."

Eric nodded and crossed his legs, covering up. "He should have prepped you better."

Blaine didn't say anything.

"He's not always like this, you know," Eric informed him. "He's not...like that. With me."

Blaine didn't tell him that he didn't care. "I get it," he said, instead. "It's okay to be forceful with a guy you're never going to see again, but not with your boyfriend."

"Fiance," Eric corrected.

Blaine gave him a look of pity. Eric nodded slowly and looked down at his hands. He looked up a minute later. "You know, he's probably going to be gone for a while. We should just get dressed. I'll get you your money."

Blaine didn't budge. "I'll wait until time is up."

"Oh," Eric said. "You could just leave. I'll tell him I told you to go. He won't be mad or anything."

Blaine stayed where he was. He couldn't really imagine Andrew being anything less than a jerk.

"So, what do you do? You know, other than-than this?"

"Nothing," Blaine replied, flatly.

"Oh," he said again. "Sorry, I'm just trying to make conversation."

Blaine nodded again. He didn't seem so bad, despite everything, so he tried to make it easier for him. "What about you?"

"I'm at school for design," he said. "Fashion."

"My boyfriend works in fashion," Blaine told him. He'd never had the chance to tell anyone about Kurt. "He's interning at Vogue dot com."

"Wow," Eric said. "Is he... Does he do...this, too?"

Blaine gave him a look. "No way," he said, sounding more defensive than was intended.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, I get it," Blaine said, hoping to redeem himself. "Not a lot of people are willing to go out with a prostitute." He could hardly believe that Kurt still wanted to see him. "I mean, it's hard for him, but he...he knew what he was getting himself into when we started dating."

"Guess you can't help who you love," Eric said, smiling to himself. "I couldn't stand Andrew when I met him, but that didn't mean I wasn't into him. You seem like a nice kid, though. Too nice for this business."

Blaine rolled his eyes instinctively. "I don't have a lot of alternatives," he told him. "I need the money. I need to live."

He had no idea why he was telling him this. It was none of his business and he would be gone out of his life for good in a matter of minutes. He didn't need to tell him this.

"Does he hate it? Your boyfriend?"

Blaine nodded slowly. "He doesn't tell me that he does, but I can see it when he looks at me."

Blaine could see it in Kurt's eyes, the worry, the dismay, the fear and the disapproval. He never said anything, never acted like Blaine deserved to be judged for what he did, who he was, but Blaine knew. He was so used to disapproval that picking up on it was like a second nature to him.

"Has he made you choose?"

Blaine gave him a quizzical look.

"You know, between him and this?"

"Oh," Blaine said. "No." Blaine had never considered such a thing, had never thought of Kurt asking him to do that, but it frightened him, because he wasn't sure what he would pick.

"If he did...?"

"I don't know," Blaine said quickly. "We haven't been together for very long."

Eric nodded, like he understood. "You should really just get dressed."

"Your fiance hasn't come yet," Blaine said.

"He's not likely to, either," Eric said. "Not after getting off the phone with his dad."

Blaine nodded. "Been there," he muttered.

Eric opened his mouth, but closed it again. He climbed down off the bed and picked up his jacket, then held out a bunch of notes in front of Blaine.

"I threw an extra fifty in for wasting your time," he told Blaine. "And for the, um, bad prepping. Is that enough?"

Blaine sat up. "You don't have to do that. Your time isn't even up yet."

"Take it," Eric pleaded. "Start some kind of fund. Make enough money so that you can do something else, go to school, or something. Get out of this line of work."

"Look, that's nice of you and everything, but—"

"Okay, well, just...I don't know, take your boyfriend out, use it to buy him a nice dinner."

Blaine eyed the notes. Kurt deserved something nice for putting up with him. He deserved things couldn't afford, but this would be a start. He sighed. "Alright," he said, taking the money. "Um, thanks, I guess."

"Thank _you_," Eric corrected, as he started to get dressed. "I mean, I don't think you should keep doing it, but...you're good at it. At what you do. I'm sorry if he—if we hurt you. Do you need...anything?"

Blaine looked down at his lap. He could feel his bottom lip quivering, throat tightening, back aching and he tried to stop the tears, but they fell anyway. "You're n-not supposed to be n-nice to me," he whispered. "You're all s-supposed to be the same. Just s-sleazy guys who use me to get off. You're not supposed to-to t-talk to me, or-or offer me a-anything. You're supposed to-to f-fuck me and leave."

Eric sat down on the bed next to him. "Sweetie, how long have you been doing this?"

Blaine just closed his eyes.

"You're just a kid," Eric went on. "Let people help you out. Don't put yourself in this danger any more."

"Look, c-can you just leave?" Blaine asked, standing up. He wobbled a little, then went to get his clothes.

"Blaine," Eric said and it was the first time he said his name. "You're bleeding."

Blaine looked down and exhaled shakily. He ignored it, ignored the blood and the pain and quickly dressed, before tucking his money into his pocket and walking towards the door. He turned to look at the other man.

"I, uh..." He shook his head. "Look, um, I won't say it's been nice, it hasn't, but, um..."

"Good luck, Blaine," Eric said, with a faint smile.

Blaine nodded and then fled the hotel room as quickly as he could.

* * *

Kurt lay on his bed, phone resting on his chest as the worst possible scenarios ran through his mind. It was almost 2am and he hadn't heard from Blaine and he wasn't picking up his calls or answering his texts. He didn't know what he would do if Blaine didn't contact him at all. He had no idea where he lived or how he would find out, so all he could do was wait, helplessly.

Kurt had quickly fallen for Blaine. He was easy to fall for. He knew that he cared far more than he should have cared for someone he had only known for a little over nine weeks. There were so many things he wanted to change, to fix and make right, but he didn't know how. All he knew was that it didn't matter what Blaine did, or who he had been with, he just knew that he wanted to have him in his life.

Kurt yawned, but he wouldn't give in to sleep. He needed to know that Blaine was okay.

Blaine stayed in the shower for two full hours, long after the water had gone cold. He could hardly feel it, could hardly feel anything but the stinging beneath his eyes from the tears he'd shed. His body ached and his head hurt and he needed to forget, needed to transport himself back in time and make things different.

He shivered as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a towel, then got dressed and went to pull the sofa-bed out. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket and lay down in the dark and tried to sleep, but he couldn't. The intense need to be held struck him again and that was when he remembered.

_Kurt._

* * *

The phone started ringing at 3.37am and Kurt answered it instantly.

"Blaine!" he all but shouted down the line, heart hammering. "Blaine, I was so worried—"

"Hi," Blaine croaked out. "Sorry, I forgot to call. It's, um, been a long night."

He sounded small and hurt and Kurt's blood ran cold. "Blaine, do you need—"

"Just calling because I said I would," Blaine spoke over him. "It's late, you should get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," Kurt said and it was true, he didn't feel tired any more. "Do you want to talk about it? You're okay, right?"

"Mostly," Blaine said, with a weak chuckle. "I just...need to sleep it off. Wanted to hear your voice first."

Kurt smiled a little and turned on his side. "Stay on the line until you fall asleep, okay?" he asked shakily.

Blaine mumbled an affirmative. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Kurt nodded and remembered Blaine couldn't see him. "Of course," he said. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but you can. I'm here if you need to talk."

"Not now, though," Blaine said, quietly. "Hey, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember how last week you were singing in your kitchen and you were gonna sing for me, but the phone rang?"

"Mmhmm?" Kurt said, recalling the day.

"You should sing for me now."

Kurt smiled. "Alright," he said. "But only because you had a bad day. Pick your song."

"Something happy."

Kurt didn't think Blaine had a lot of happiness in his life. He started to sing.

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away," he sang, quietly. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day."

Blaine laughed weakly, but told him to keep going.

"For love may come and tap you on the shoulder some starless night, just in case you feel you want to hold him, you'll have a pocketful of starlight," he went on, wondering if it was too much to change the pronouns so early on in their relationship, but Blaine didn't seem to notice. He sang the chorus and kept going, "For when your troubles start multiplying and they just might, it's easy to forget them without trying with just a pocketful of starlight."

* * *

Blaine's phone buzzed in his pocket and the mixed feelings of delight and dread hit him instantly. There was only one person it could be.

"Hi," he answered quietly.

"Hey," Kurt said, happily. "Did I get you at a bad time?"

For Blaine, it was always a bad time.

"No," he said anyway. "I'm not doing anything profound."

"We never made plans last night," Kurt told him.

"Right," Blaine said, voice strained. He looked down at his old, sleep clothes and ran a hand through his messy hair. He had spent the entire day sitting around, thinking about how wrong things had gone and wallowing in his own misery. "Um, how's tomorrow? Meet you for lunch?"

Blaine could practically see Kurt's frown. "Blaine, I haven't seen you since Monday."

"I know."

"It's Friday."

"I know," he said again.

"Blaine."

"What?" he asked, timidly.

"I still have a boyfriend, don't I? I mean, you would have told me if we'd broken up, wouldn't you?"

Blaine felt panic rising. "No! I mean, yes. I mean, no we didn't break up. We didn't."

"Okay," Kurt said carefully. "Then when are you going to stop avoiding me?"

Blaine closed his eyes and sighed. He opened them again. "I'll pick you up at 8."

"You'll pick me up at 8," Kurt repeated, confused.

"Yes," Blaine said. "7, if you'd prefer it."

Kurt was quiet.

"Kurt?"

"I'm here," he said. "Look, if you don't want to see me, that's okay. Don't force yourself to. It's just…it's stupid, but I miss you. But if you aren't up to seeing me, I'll understand."

Blaine smiled. "Thanks," he said. "And it's not stupid. I miss you, too. Just sometimes…sometimes I need to be alone. I'm not used to having anyone."

"You don't have to be alone any more."

"I know," Blaine said. "I'm figuring that out." He meant it, too. He had been doing a lot of thinking on the matter. He paused. "Okay, so tonight at 8?"

"You're sure?" Kurt asked. "We can just have a phone date."

"I'm sure," Blaine assured him. "8?"

"You offered 7," Kurt said and he could hear him smiling. "Pick me up at 7?"

"Okay," Blaine said, smiling. "I'll let you go get ready."

"Okay," Kurt said softly. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"You make me happy, you know?" he said. "I mean, you're always so sad, but…I want to make you as happy as you make me."

"Trust me," Blaine said, "this is the happiest I've been in a long time."

* * *

"You look amazing," Blaine said when Kurt opened the door that evening. He was wearing tight, dark pants and a grey sweater that clung in all the right places.

"Hi, thanks. So do you." Kurt stepped back to let him in. Blaine looked unsure. "She's out," Kurt said. "She's at a karaoke night with the beautiful people."

Rachel and Blaine still hadn't met and she asked so many questions, that Kurt was worried she would put Blaine on the spot if they did meet. He didn't need that kind of trouble. He suspected that Blaine didn't need it either.

"The beautiful people?" Blaine asked, going inside.

"From NYADA," Kurt clarified. "Sit down, I'm just going to grab my scarf."

Kurt went to his room and got his scarf, then walked back out into the living room where Blaine was sitting rigid on the couch. Kurt went up behind him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Blaine smiled.

"I missed you," Kurt said.

"Sorry," Blaine said. "I wanted to see you."

"I know," Kurt told him. "Want to stay here instead?"

"We've got a table booked for 8pm at that new Italian place."

"We do?"

Blaine nodded.

"Okay," Kurt said. "I guess we need to get going then."

"Yeah," Blaine said and began to stand up, but he stopped, face twisting. He fell back down into a seated position.

"Blaine..."

"I'm okay," he exhaled slowly.

"Cancel the reservations," Kurt said, sitting down beside him, mind racing with all the things that could be wrong. Blaine could be cut, or bruised, or injured. "We'll order in."

Blaine pushed himself up again, but Kurt shook his head and reached out to touch his knee, trying not to be too offended by the way he flinched at the contact.

"Let's stay here," Kurt said. "I'll get you anything you need, you won't even have to move."

Blaine frowned. "I don't need a nurse."

"Boyfriend."

"What?"

"Taking care of you when you need it doesn't make me a nurse," Kurt explained. "It just makes me your boyfriend."

Blaine looked down at his hands. "That's still kind of insane to me. Boyfriend. I just never thought I'd..." He shrugged, like Kurt could fill in the gaps.

"You're my first, too," Kurt said, smiling. Blaine knew that already. "I know that it's different, though. I know that you need to get used to this more than I do, but I need to know that I'm not crowding you. Am I the dreaded, clingy boyfriend everyone has nightmares about?"

Blaine laughed and covered Kurt's hand with his own. "No," he said. "I appreciate the interest and the concern. Sometimes, I get moody and push you away, but I don't mean to. I don't want to."

Kurt understood, or at least he hoped he understood.

"I'm here for you," he assured him. "Okay, so, I'm going to go get changed, because these jeans are tight and too good to wear for the purpose of lazing around. Want to borrow some clothes so you can relax a little?" Blaine looked at him, awestruck. Kurt eyed him for a moment, then smiled. "I'll be right back."

Kurt went to his bedroom and changed, then grabbed some pyjama pants and an old t-shirt before going back out into the living room.

"Those are going to be a bit long on you," he said, handing Blaine the clothes. "The shirt should be okay, though. You can use my room to change. Or the bathroom if it makes you more comfortable."

"Kurt, I spend 90% of my time in strange beds, your bedroom isn't going to make me uncomfortable."

Kurt didn't say anything, just raised a thin eyebrow.

"Sorry," Blaine mumbled. "Habit."

"You have an awful habit of putting yourself down and making yourself into something you're not," Kurt observed. "Go get changed and I'll grab some menus and we can order."

An hour later, Blaine was changed and they were eating pizza. The atmosphere was a little tense.

"Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"Can I..." Blaine paused, took a deep breath. "Could I maybe talk to you? About last night?"

Kurt looked up, stunned. Blaine never wanted to talk about any of his jobs, never wanted Kurt to know more than was absolutely necessary and while Kurt knew when some were worse than others, he never really knew to what extent.

"Yes," Kurt said instantly. "Absolutely. Of course." He picked his phone up off of the coffee table and started pushing keys. "I'm just going to make sure Rachel isn't coming back anytime soon. I don't want us to be disturbed."

Blaine nodded, looking skittish. Kurt sent a text.

**To Rachel:  
**_What time are you coming home?_

The reply came almost immediately.

**From Rachel:  
**_In about an hour. I'm just staying for Brody's solo. It's quiet tonight. Why? Did you and Blaine decide to blow off the date and have your own little party? ;)_

Kurt rolled his eyes.

**To Rachel:  
**_No. Well, yes. To the blowing off part. He's going through some stuff and needs to talk. Any chance you can stay out later? Or maybe stay at Brody's or someone's?_

Blaine was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm trying to convince her to stay out, or at a friend's place."

"You don't have to do that," Blaine said. "This is her home. You know, it can wait. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or—"

"No," Kurt said. He wasn't going to let this go. Blaine was willing to talk and Kurt wanted to listen, needed to, even. Rachel was not going to intrude on that. "No, this is important. I live here, too and she doesn't have any problems with kicking me out when she wants some alone time here with Finn, or Brody, or whoever it is on a particular week."

"I don't want to make things difficult."

"You're not. Blaine, I care about you. I'm going to be here for you no matter what. You need to understand that. You're not a burden, or difficult, or any of the things that you think you are. You're my boyfriend and if you want to talk, then we'll talk. This comes first, okay?"

Blaine only nodded, not appearing convinced in the least. A new text came in then.

**From Rachel:  
**_I can't just stay at Brody's! What kind of girl do you think I am? You know we aren't dating, Kurt. Finn and I are working things out._

Kurt didn't let Blaine know that she was being difficult. He simply replied, looking neutral.

**To Rachel:  
**_Stay with a friend and I'll go with you to Callbacks next week._

Rachel had been trying to get Kurt to go to the karaoke bar ever since she'd discovered its existence. Kurt didn't feel like being the odd one out of Rachel and all her NYADA friends. It reminded him of the rejection he had suffered, reminded him that that dream was long gone.

**From Rachel:  
**_REALLY? YOU PROMISE?_

He typed back a reply quickly.

**To Rachel:  
**_I promise. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow. I need to go. Bye._

He switched his phone off and left it down on the table. He turned to face Blaine.

"You have my full attention," he swore.

Blaine closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly. He opened them and folded his hands together in his lap.

"I had a breakdown last night," he admitted. "Not during, but...right after. I cried in front of one of them. He was being nice and I didn't want that. I want to hate them. I want to hate all of them."

* * *

Blaine felt so stupid. He felt vulnerable and small and weak and disgusting and the fact that Kurt wasn't giving him a look of distaste somehow made it worse.

"How much of this are you willing to listen to?" Blaine asked. "I mean, I don't want to tell you anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"Everything," Kurt said. "If it involves you I want to know about it."

The need to cry hit Blaine then and he fought it, not wanting to add to the hopelessness he was embodying right now.

"They were engaged. One of them was called Andrew and the other one was Eric. At first, I hated that they were looking at me. I hated them for looking like I was some kind of plaything, but I realised that Eric—he was looking at me differently. He was just...just looking. Andrew told me to strip, so I did and then he-he told me to give the other guy a blow job. Is this too much?" he asked, seeing the way Kurt was staring.

"No," Kurt said. "It's just...new. Keep going. I can handle it."

Blaine rubbed at his eyes. "Do you think this is going to make you look at me differently? Will this...is it going to change anything?"

"Of course not," Kurt told him, not missing a beat. "It's what you do, not who you are and if I look a little put out, it's only because I'm a blushing virgin who is scared to watch porn. Just...tell me. I'll adjust. I want to adjust."

Blaine smiled. "You've never watched porn?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't start. I tried, I failed. I never tried again. Was that a detailed enough explanation?"

Blaine laughed quietly. "Okay," he said. He coughed. "Okay, so, he started-he started stretching me, you know, with the lube and he was a little rougher than was necessary, but I didn't argue. They were paying. If they wanted to be a little more forceful, I'd adapt. Then before I was even close to ready, he was p-pushing in." He blushed brighter. "God, it hurt so much, but he didn't stop, he kept going. He kept doing it. It gets me mad when they call me names. I mean, I don't let them know that, but it does and no matter how true the things they call me might be, it still hurts. It seemed to go on forever and then they switched places. Eric, he wasn't rough with me. He just... Okay. Um, so he noticed that I wasn't stretched properly and he didn't...didn't go inside. He started to-to s-suck me and he was kind of, uh, gentle with me, but Andrew was still saying things and I was still in a lot of pain and then his phone rang and he had to leave to answer it.

"Eric didn't touch me after he left. He told me that he wasn't into it, that Andrew had wanted it and he'd gone along with it. We talked a little. They don't talk to me, not usually, not unless it's to ask me about sex, or to praise my, um, skills, I guess. But Eric, he talked to me. I told him about you. He's at design school. He's studying fashion. I told him you were with Vogue and he asked me how you felt about me doing...this. He...asked if you'd asked me to choose yet. Between you and my work."

"I would never do that," Kurt assured him. "I'm not comfortable with it, I'm not going to pretend that I am, but I know that you need the money and I know that your pride won't allow you to let me help you out. I'm not going to push you into making any decisions. This is up to you. If you need me to help you, I'm right here, but in the end, it's your decision."

Blaine nodded. Kurt had such a great understanding of it all and it never failed to surprise him. At the same time, it made him dizzy, nervous and afraid.

"I hated that he was nice to me, Kurt," Blaine went on. "He told me I was too nice for what I was doing, that I should try get out of it. He asked if I needed anything when he saw the blood."

"The blood?" Kurt asked, paling, eyes going wide with alarm.

"I'm fine," Blaine said. "It was just a little blood from the bad prep job. No big deal. It happens."

"Jesus, Blaine..."

"If this is too much—"

"No," Kurt said, adamant. "Keep going."

Blaine rubbed at his eyes again, feeling a headache coming on. "It's easier if they treat me badly," Blaine said. "It makes them less real. If they talk to me and show me any kind of kindness, it means they're human. It's so much easier to pretend that they're these made up monsters inside my head, but his words, they're haunting me. He wasn't a monster. He was just a guy in love and he wanted to make the love of his life happy. Sure, it was a unique sort of happiness, but...he's just a guy and that means they're all just guys and of course I knew that, but it all seems so much more real now.

"You don't have to understand that. It's okay if you don't. I just panicked. I panicked and I spent a long time in the shower afterwards, which is why it took me so long to call you. I needed to wash it all away, the uncleanliness and the misery and the hurt and the realisation, but it's all still here. I don't know how to get rid of it. I needed to work it out and that meant avoiding you, no matter how much I wanted to see you. I still haven't worked it out and I thought I was protecting you by not letting you know everything, I thought it was a good way to keep the two things separate, you know, the good and the bad. But then you look at me and you don't push me and you're willing to just sit around and hold my hand when things get bad and I wondered if keeping these things from you was the right decision.

"I shot back at you with some stupid quip and you didn't get mad at me for taking it out on you, you got mad because I had put myself down and I knew that I had to talk to you. It's not fair of me to do the things I do and not tell you why. This affects you, too, now and I need to remember that. So from now on, if you're willing to listen, I want to talk to you about this stuff. Not all the time, I don't want to go into great detail about what I'm getting up to with other men, but sometimes I need someone to hold me together, even if I want to keep you far away from all this crap. I need you and I know you're strong enough to take it. It's not the easiest thing for me to admit, but I don't want to have to do this by myself any more."

Kurt inched forward and pulled Blaine into a hug. "You're going to be okay," he promised him. "You're going to get through this and we'll be fine. I know it."

Blaine could only sob quietly.

"Stay here tonight," Kurt dared to say. "I just hate the idea of you going home to an empty apartment. I know it's kind of soon for us to, um, share a bed, but I'd feel better to have you with me."

"Are you sure?"

Kurt nodded against his shoulder. "Is that a yes?"

"Yeah," Blaine hiccupped. "Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

"Everything smells like you in here," Blaine said, walking across Kurt's room to look out the window.

Kurt chuckled. "Well, I hope that's a good thing."

Blaine turned around and smiled, the moon casting an almost-halo behind his head. "Of course it is," Blaine told him. "I love how you smell."

Kurt flashed him a grin. "Are you comfortable in what you're wearing, or do you need something different to sleep in?"

Blaine noticed the blush in his cheeks. "Are you asking me what I wear to bed?"

Kurt's mouth fell into an 'o' shape. "N-not like that!" he stammered. He blinked quickly and climbed under the covers.

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly and climbed in next to him, hoping that he wasn't imposing. "This is fine," he told him. "I usually wear a lot of layers to bed," he admitted. "It's a...security thing, I guess, but you're here. I feel safe."

Kurt turned to look at him, eyes sad. "I'm glad," he said.

"Is this what you always wear or are you wearing more because I'm here?"

"What's the supposed to mean?" Kurt asked, defensively.

"Nothing," Blaine said. "I was making a joke."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled. "Sorry, I thought you were accusing me of not wanting to touch you, or something." He moved in closer. "Because that's not true at all."

Blaine's heart stuttered in his chest as Kurt leaned in and kissed him slowly, before deepening the kiss. He felt reluctant in letting things go too far. His and Kurt's relationship was about romance. He didn't want to spoil that with sex. The idea of sex with Kurt was nice, but it wasn't something he thought about a lot, despite Kurt being extremely sexy.

"Sorry," Blaine said, inching backwards when his knee brushed against Kurt's prominent erection.

"Don't be silly," Kurt said. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"I know it's stupid, not being ready for more when I'm...well, me, but—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Kurt said, pressing a finger to his lips. "It is not stupid. I know they don't mean anything to you."

"They don't, they never have."

"I know," Kurt said, with a nod. "And I'm sorry for making it awkward. I, um, can't help...that." His eyes dropped and his cheeks burned pink.

"You didn't make it awkward," Blaine promised. "And it's flattering that I have that effect on you."

Kurt hit him playfully and they laughed quietly. When their laughter faded, Kurt leaned back and looked at him.

"You like me, right?" he asked. "I mean, I know it's not a big deal, but I never...have that effect on you. Do you like me?"

Blaine laughed. "God, Kurt," he said. "I'm crazy about you and trust me, you've had the same effect on me many times. I just let my inhibitions and worries get in the way. Sex is just...it's different for me. I know that to you it means a lot, but to me, it lost its meaning a long time ago. I promise you that you are totally sexy and hot and all those things, it's just that I want to show you in other ways. Is that okay?"

Kurt nodded instantly. "Yes," he said. "I didn't mean to make a big deal out of it."

"No, this is good. We should talk about this stuff more."

Kurt nodded again. He blinked and looked up at Blaine through the canopy of his lashes. "You...you think I'm s-sexy?"

"Unbelievably so," Blaine said, going closer again. "I promise. I just want this to last and I think that if it gets sexual really quickly it won't last."

Kurt nodded and kissed his lips once. "Can I ask something?"

Blaine told him that he could.

"Tell me about your first time?"

Blaine emitted a shaky breath and averted his gaze from his boyfriend's.

"You don't have to," Kurt assured him.

"I'll tell you," Blaine said, quietly, lifting his eyes again. "I want us to know things about each other."

"You can ask me stuff, too, then," Kurt offered.

Blaine nodded. "Okay," he said. "Can I ask you a question first? I'll tell you about my first time afterwards."

"Go for it," Kurt said, with a smile.

"Tell me about the kiss," he said. "The stolen one."

Kurt's smile fell and he sighed. "You mean my first kiss?"

"I don't want to hear about your first kiss," Blaine said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I want to hear about the one before that. The one with the bully guy."

Kurt gave him a slow smile and reached out to link their fingers together. "Dave Karofsky. Football team. Spent a lot of good money on slushies that usually ended up in my face. He made it his mission to make my life a misery. I mean, they all gave me a hard time, but Karofsky... It was different with him. It was the way he looked at me."

Blaine nodded knowingly.

"I got tired of it. He shoved me one day and I went after him. I yelled at him and he got mad and before I knew what was happening, he kissed me. I pushed him off and he stormed out. It shook me pretty badly, but I got it. I knew why he hated me so much. He transferred after that. After junior prom. I didn't see him again until Valentine's day of my senior year when a guy in a gorilla costume kept showing up with heart shaped chocolate boxes and balloons and flowers and I was curious to know who he was. No one had ever taken any kind of interest in me. I got a card asking me to meet him at Breadstix and when I got there, it was Karofsky. It would be an understatement to say I was shocked."

"Wow," Blaine said. "That's...insane. Then what happened?"

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "I told him I didn't like him like that," he said. "He left and some guy from his school saw the whole thing. He got outed and he tried to kill himself. He's okay. I mean, he's alive. I went to see him in the hospital. He'd been calling me and stuff and I'd ignored it and I felt guilty when I heard what had happened. We're okay, though. We're not friends, or anything, but he's out now and he's got that job at Breadstix and while what he did was wrong, I can't hate him for it. I don't let it get to me like I used to. The idea of having my first kiss taken from me like that... I'm a hopeless romantic. I thought the world was over when it happened, but now, it doesn't matter any more. It doesn't matter whether it's your first or your fiftieth, what matters is what it means to you."

He stressed that last part, as if trying to get a message through to Blaine.

"You are such a good person," Blaine told him.

"Yeah, well, I try," Kurt teased. "So, it's your turn. Tell me whatever you're comfortable with telling me."

Blaine turned his head and stared up at the ceiling.

"There's this club in the city," he began. "_Lapis Lazuli_. It's the place my friend Sam had a job stripping. It's kind of a hot spot. If you're looking to pay for some adult fun, it's the place to go, I guess. So, I'd decided to try it out. I was desperate. I was about to lose my apartment and I wasn't able to afford good food, so I made the decision to do it. I went there and I stood by the bar and I must have looked nervous. I was shaking. A guy came up to me after a little while. He started hitting on me and telling me how much he'd give me for...various things and I chickened out. I got out of there, but when I got outside, I stopped and I thought about it and I convinced myself to go back in.

"The guy had gone off with one of the others, I guess. So, I waited and another one approached me and I said yes before I could change my mind. He was in the city on business. He was staying at a hotel and he took me back there and...honestly, I think he got off on the innocence thing. I mean, I had no idea what I was doing. It really hurt, but I pushed through it and it felt kind of surreal. Like I was in a bad porn movie. I mean, I didn't think real people said those things, I always thought they were bad lines made for those videos.

"When it was over, I got the money and got out of there. It took me a while to get home, because I was kind of...in pain. When I got in, I stayed in the shower for three hours and I just...just cried and I hated myself. I hated myself so much for letting it happen. I didn't do it again for a week when money ran out again. After that, I was doing it all the time. It doesn't get any easier. It's awful. I hate it. I hate what it's done to me and I hate that it's made me miss out on so much, but it's all I know any more."

Kurt moved in closer and pressed his forehead to Blaine's. "I feel so close to you." He cautiously wound his arms around Blaine's waist, smiling when he didn't flinch away. "I know it's only been a couple of months, but I feel like it's been longer. I feel like it can go somewhere."

Blaine looked away instantly.

"If that's too much too soon please forget I said that," Kurt said, panicking a bit.

"No, it's not that," Blaine said. "It's not that. I feel close to you, too. I just... I'm waiting for it to crash and burn any day now. This is going to get in the way. I pretend to myself that it won't, because you're really understanding, but I know it will. I know that at some point, you're going to want more than making out on your couch. I know I'll want it, too, but I don't want this to turn into another sex thing. My entire life is sex and I want this to be different. I want it to be more. I know it can't work, not when you've got so much going for you and I have to think about long term, Kurt. A future with me means a future with my job and you don't deserve that."

"Okay," Kurt said, pulling Blaine back to him. "First of all, you are not your job. I want you. I don't care what anyone thinks or how much baggage you've got. I want you. Got it?"

Blaine nodded, but was not entirely convinced.

"And as for the sex thing," Kurt went on, "we don't need it. Not now. And you know what? If we do get to a point where it's something we want, I promise you it will be different. It'll mean something. Hypothetically speaking, we are going to have a perfect first time together. This relationship could never just be sex. It'll always be more than that. I could have told you that the first week we started dating. This has potential. There's a definite spark."

Blaine gave him a smile. "You think?"

"I know," Kurt assured him. "We are going to be fine. Trust me."

Blaine did. Kurt was the only person he did trust, the only person he had trusted in a long, long time. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

* * *

**Also, just to point out that I literally have no idea about the sex industry, so I hope nothing is too far fetched or under done, or anything like that. Honestly, I'm a bit nervous about this, hopefully it worked out okay. I'll update soon and things will start happening. Right now, it's mostly emotional and setting up for what's going to happen soon enough. THank you for reading, let me know what you thought and if you want to ask anything either message me on here, or on tumblr (likechildreninafairytale) or twitter (crisscolferss). Thank you :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing. Hello, sorry for the delay with the update, I still can't handle the college life. I don't think there's anything too crazy in here as far as warnings go. I'll update soon :) Hope you like itttt and thanks for the reviews and messages and tweets :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

"I still haven't met your boyfriend."

"Good morning, Rachel. How are you this fine day?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice, before closing the door and pouring the juice into a glass.

"Burt called while you were out last night. He didn't call your phone because he accidentally left his under a car and he ran over it, so he didn't have your number," she said as she carved an apple in half.

"He ran over his phone?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I told him you were on a date," she said, as if he hadn't even spoken. She began chopping the two halves of the apple into smaller segments. She cleared her throat. "With your boyfriend."

Kurt looked up. "You told him about Blaine?"

Rachel shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't aware that I wasn't supposed to. Which brings me back to the matter at hand: when do I get to meet him?"

"Rachel," Kurt said sounding tired. He placed the carton back in the fridge and walked across to the couch.

"Well, it's been a long time, Kurt and I see remnants of him lying around, so I know he at least exists. But I find it very strange that we haven't met. Can you tell me why that is?"

Kurt groaned and dialled Blaine's number. He picked up after a couple of rings.

"Kurt?" he said, groggily.

"Morning, honey. I'm sorry to call you when the rest of the world is sleeping peacefully. Unfortunately, Rachel's warm-up exercises are better than any alarm clock." He gave her a pointed look. "Lucky me. Anyway, she's been pestering me about you and I thought I'd let her say hi. Is that okay?"

There was a yawn and then, "Um, sure. She won't ask about...?"

"No," Kurt told him.

"'Kay," he said. "Put her on."

"Okay, I'm putting you on loudspeaker." Blaine mumbled for him to go ahead. "Come on, Rachel. We're keeping him from his beauty sleep, not that he needs it," he added with a smile.

"Flatterer," Blaine joked.

Rachel rushed to sit next to Kurt. "Hi, Blaine!" she said with enough enthusiasm to end a war. "I'm Rachel Barbra Berry, I'm sure you've heard a lot about me."

"I have," Blaine said. "It's nice to sort-of meet you."

"Yes, well, I have been insisting that Kurt let us meet face to face since you started dating, but he always says you're busy."

"Well, we'll make plans."

"Ooh! You should come to Callbacks with us tonight!" Rachel said excitedly.

"I—"

"It'd be doing me a favour," Kurt added. "If you were there, I wouldn't feel quite as left out as I'm sure I'm going to feel."

"You want me to come?" Blaine asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course," Kurt said. "But I would understand if you didn't want to. I mean, all those theatre people."

"I love theatre, or at least I used to."

"Oh, my gosh, Blaine. Do you sing?" Rachel practically exploded.

"I, uh, did. Just in glee club—"

"He was in glee?" Rachel asked, looking at Kurt. "You didn't tell me that!"

Kurt shrugged. In all honesty, he hadn't told Rachel a lot about Blaine. He tried to avoid mentioning anything that could lead to questions.

"You have to sing tonight!" she said.

"I haven't sung in a long time," Blaine confessed.

"It will be wonderful!" She stood up. "I need to go get ready, it was nice talking to you! Bye, Blaine!"

Rachel went to her bedroom, singing to herself. She closed the door and Kurt switched the phone back to normal mode.

"Still there?"

"Yes," Blaine answered. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"About?"

"Me," he provided. "What I do, who I am."

"Oh," Kurt said. "Well, no."

Blaine sighed. "Why not?" he asked, but before Kurt could answer that, he went on, "This is what I'm talking about. You can't have a relationship with someone you have to hide from everyone. Is that why you never have me over when she's home?"

"Blaine, of course not," Kurt said, softly. "I told you: I don't care what people think."

"But obviously that's not true." He sighed again. "Look, I need to go. I've got stuff to do today."

"Blaine, wait—"

"I'll call you."

And then he ended the call. Kurt sat there in silence until Rachelmleft, then he picked up his phone again. He called the number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad. It's me. Sorry I missed you yesterday. I heard your phone had an unfortunate end."

"Kurt," Burt said, happily. "Yeah, must have fallen out of my pocket. So, what's all this about a boyfriend?"

Did he still have one? He wasn't sure. He hoped so.

"His name's Blaine," he said. "He's from Ohio, too." He smiled nervously, despite Burt not being able to see him. He had never had to tell his dad he had a boyfriend, had never even told him much about the few guys he'd gone on dates with since arriving in the city.

"Oh, yeah?" Burt said, voice lifting."Where'd you meet him?"

"Um, coffee shop, technically," Kurt told his dad. "I'd seen him around a few times before."

"This Blaine, what does he do?"

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lying to his father was something he didn't do, something he hadn't done in a very, very long time. "That's where it gets complicated," he said. "You're not going to like it."

"Why not let me be the judge of that?"

"Because I know," Kurt said. "I don't like it. He hates it."

"What's goin' on, Kurt?" Burt knew something was off, Kurt could hear it in his voice.

Kurt looked down at his lap and crossed his legs. "Blaine's had a hard time. His parents weren't supportive and it was bad enough to make him run away. He came here at sixteen, all by himself. And then he ran out of money."

Kurt hadn't heard the entire story yet. Blaine needed time, it seemed.

"I don't like where this is goin'," Burt informed him. "I mean, I don't know what it is exactly, but I don't like it."

"Dad, just hear me out, okay?" Kurt begged. Burt made a sound. "Thank you," Kurt said. "Blaine is hands down the greatest guy I've ever met. He's funny and talented and attractive and smart and loving and—"

"I'm waiting for the 'but'."

Kurt shook his head. "There is no 'but'. It doesn't matter to me what he's had to do."

"Just tell me what he does, Kurt. If this is a drug thing—"

"It isn't," Kurt assured him. He wasn't sure if his father would deem the truth worse than a drug problem. "It's a... Blaine is a prostitute."

He held his breath, but not for long, because the reply came almost instantly.

"No."

"Dad—"

He heard Burt let out a sound of frustration. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Of course, but he can take care of himse—"

"Not for him! For you! Are you insane? Kurt, it's real nice that you feel sorry for this kid and yeah, he's had a hard time of it, but you can't _date_ him."

"Why not?" Kurt demanded to know. "Why does what he does have to mean he's not a good person?"

"I didn't say he wasn't," Burt said, calmer now. "The kid could be riddled with disease—"

"I'm hanging up."

"Kurt, we need to talk about this. You hang up now and I'll fly out there."

Kurt dropped his head back in frustration. "He's perfectly fine. He's not going to give me anything. We haven't even..." He blushed bright red and didn't finish that sentence.

He didn't have to, because Burt spoke, "You can't keep seeing him."

"Yes, Dad, that's what he keeps telling me, too, but why doesn't anyone take into account what _I _want? Why is everyone making it so difficult when all I want to do is be with the person that makes me happy?"

There was a pause.

"I don't like this."

Kurt settled in his seat, shoulders loosening. "Yeah, I know, but you don't have to, you just have to accept it, because it is how it is."

"Did you know before you started dating?"

"He told me about 5 minutes after we met," Kurt told him.

"And you still went out with him?"

"Yes, what part of 'it doesn't matter to me' don't you get? Can't you just be happy for me?"

"I'm happy you're happy, but I don't like your reason. Just...think about your future, Kurt. You've got dreams of making it big."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's not holding me back, Dad."

"I don't know what else I can say," Burt said, sounding exhausted.

"There isn't anything you could say to change anything," Kurt apprised him. "Please just trust me on this one."

"I'm not happy about it," Burt told him again. "If you end up hurt or—"

"What, Dad? What are you going to do? What could you possibly do to make his life worse than it already is?"

Burt sighed, defeated, it seemed. "Just...be careful, Kurt. And think about what I said."

"I love you, Dad, but I know what I'm doing. I'm sure about this."

It surprised even Kurt that he felt so strongly about Blaine and their relationship, but he had to go with his gut feeling, had to hold on.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Like what? I'm hardly going to join him."

"You know what I mean, Kurt." Burt coughed. "Don't do anything that's gonna put you in danger."

"Dad, do you remember when you told me that I matter? That sex means something? To Blaine, it doesn't."

"That's exactly what I'm tryin' to say!"

"No, Dad, you don't get it. That is precisely the reason you don't have to worry. He wants us to mean something and he says that if it turns into sex, it won't mean anything any more. He just wants romance, Dad. That's what we're doing. We're having a romance."

Burt let out a long sigh. "Kurt, I'm glad you're bein' careful, but this just isn't ideal."

"Life isn't ideal, Dad," Kurt retorted. "I need to go. I've got to be at work in 40 minutes. Tell Carole I said hi and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Alright," Burt said. "You stay safe and...and think about what I said, Kurt."

"Okay," he said. "Sure, if it'll make you happy. I'll talk to you soon, bye, Dad."

* * *

"Hey."

Blaine turned around on the line at the grocery store and saw a guy standing behind him. He was tall, with greying hair and wearing a long, black coat that stopped at his ankles. He looked respectable, decent, but the worst ones always did.

"Are you talking to me?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't remember me?"

Blaine knew then that he had to have been one of his clients in the past. "I try my best to forget all of you," he said, shifting his feet awkwardly. "What can I do for you?"

"Same as last time?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific," Blaine told him, jaw set. "Like I said, I try to block you all out."

The man smirked. "I'm sure you remember my money."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and looked a little closer. His face did look kind of familiar.

"You're next."

Blaine turned to see the lady at the checkout staring at him expectantly. "Sorry," he mumbled as he moved forward to put his things down. He packed them away, aware of the man's eyes on him, then paid and turned to leave, but the guy reached out and touched his arm. Blaine froze.

"Wait outside," the voice said behind him.

Blaine waited until he let him go, then walked out of the store, debating whether or not he should just go home. He was not in the mood today, not after the mini-fight with Kurt. He needed to be alone. On the other hand, he owed rent soon...

He stood at the door for a moment more, then shook his head and walked away as quickly as he could. Something felt off, he couldn't figure out what it was, but his gut instinct told him to run and so he did. He didn't stop until he got home.

* * *

"Is Blaine coming?" Rachel asked for the umpteenth time as they followed Brody into Callbacks. Kurt really hadn't wanted to go, but he did owe her.

"Rachel, for the last time, I don't think so. He's not answering my calls or texts and I think he's mad at me. I'm miserable enough thinking about it as it is, so can we just leave him out of it?"

"No need to get snippy with me," she said, slipping onto a stool. Kurt sat down beside her and looked around the room at the smiling groups of people and the dim, but dramatic lighting. "Maybe you should go round and see him."

Kurt folded his hands together."I don't know where he lives."

"You don't know where he lives?" Rachel asked, eyes going wide. "Kurt, you've been dating for three months!"

"Nine weeks," Kurt corrected.

"He could be a murderer!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine is not a murderer, Rachel."

"You've never been to his house?"

"Apartment and no."

"But—"

"Don't you have to sign up to sing?"

"Oh!" She looked around at Brody and the others standing in line. "I'll be right back! I'll put your name down!"

"Rachel—" Kurt tried to stop her, but she was gone before he could. He sat back and sighed, pondering whether or not he should try Blaine again. He decided not to, in the end and instead, went to the bar to get himself a Shirley Temple. Some of Rachel's friends had found a table, but Kurt felt very much out of place.

"Cute."

Kurt turned in the direction from which the voice had come and saw two men standing there, both about his age. One was thin and tall with brown hair and a smirk on his face. The other was well-built and had undoubtedly dyed blonde hair and was looking miserably down into his drink, not really paying attention to his friend.

"Excuse me?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow.

"Shirley Temple," the one with the smirk said. "Cute."

Kurt didn't give him an answer, he simply turned back around to wait for his drink.

"You here all alone?"

"No."

"Sure looks like it."

"Back table on the left," Kurt said, still not looking at him. "I came with them."

"Ah, the theatre kids, of course."

Kurt only rolled his eyes.

"Which one are you screwing?"

Kurt looked at him then. "I have a boyfriend, I'm not _screwing_ anyone."

"We could change that."

Kurt looked away in disgust.

"So is that a no?"

"Yes, that's a no. I have a boyfriend," he said again.

"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

"Come on, Sebastian, lay off of him. He said he's not interested," his friend said, taking a sip of his drink.

The guy, Sebastian, rolled his eyes, but he was still smirking. "Sammy, here, just broke up with his girlfriend," he told Kurt. "Relationships are more trouble than they're worth."

"Mine isn't," Kurt said, adamantly.

"That's what they all say, honey."

The bartender came back with Kurt's drink then. He thanked him and took a sip, then walked away, Sebastian staring after him.

* * *

"Rachel," Kurt shouted over the tumult of applause, laughter and cheers. "Rachel, I'm going home."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows and twisted to look around a guy's shoulder. "What?" she shouted back.

"I'm going home," he said again, louder this time. "I said..." He sighed and pulled out his phone and composed a message, then sent it. He watched as Rachel took her own phone out and looked at the message, then looked up to protest, but he gave her a wave, before standing up and sneaking away. Nobody was likely to miss him there anyway.

Kurt slipped through the crowds and pushed his way out the main doors until he was out in the cool, night air. It was a nice night, the city lights calming and beautiful above him. He slipped his hands inside his pockets and began the walk home. Kurt couldn't help eyeing the people on the streets, wondering if Blaine was out there, if he was working tonight. He hated the thought of dirty men approaching Blaine, giving him sly smiles and touching him with their big, calloused hands. Blaine was so small and of course Kurt knew that he could take care of himself, but sometimes he seemed so fragile and vulnerable that Kurt was sure the tamest breeze would shatter him into a million pieces.

Kurt couldn't imagine what Blaine had to have gone through in making his decision to live the life that he did. He couldn't imagine him out there for the first time, inexperienced and so much younger. He worried for him, wanted to keep him safe forever. He had called him several times and had sent numerous text messages, yet Blaine had replied to none. He needed to fix it, he hated that they had had a fight of any sort.

Kurt reached his building 20 minutes later and everywhere was quiet. The street lights were dim and the main hallway was dark and he climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. His heart was pounding and he wasn't sure why, but something felt off. He crept down the hall slowly and stopped when he saw the figure crouched by his and Rachel's door. His heartbeat quickened its pace and he debated whether he should run or scream, but before he could make up his mind, the dark figure rose and began moving towards him very slowly.

Kurt held his breath, feet stuck to the floor and then the person spoke.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes went wide and he stepped forward. "Blaine?" he asked, voice breaking. "Blaine, wha—"

He could see Blaine's eyes now and they were wide and fearful. "Please open the door," he begged.

* * *

Blaine pushed Kurt inside ahead of him and glanced around cautiously. He could hardly hear for the incessant thump of his heart against his ribcage. He closed the door firmly behind them and pressed the clasp down, before turning to face his boyfriend. Kurt was watching him with concern and worry and fear and Blaine stood there, trying to catch his breath.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to be touched and then before he could stop himself, he was flinging himself into the circle of Kurt's arms. Kurt held him close and hushed him and whispered that everything would be okay as he rubbed comforting circles across his back.

"I saw him," Blaine told him quietly. "He was outside my building."

"Who?" Kurt asked. "Who was outside your building, baby?"

It was the first time Kurt had called him 'baby' and he couldn't even take a moment to marvel in it. He was too wound up, too shaken all the way to his core.

"He followed me home," Blaine told him. "I should have just slept with him."

Kurt seemed to understand then. He led Blaine across the room to sit on the couch and then took both of his hands in his. He gave Blaine a serious look.

"Blaine, if this guy is following you around, this could be dangerous," he told him. "You need to go to the police."

"And tell them what?" Blaine asked, voice sounding panicked. "Kurt, what I do is illegal."

Kurt frowned and closed his eyes. "I'm worried about you," he said, opening them again.

"I can't w-work if he's out there watching me," Blaine realised. "I c-can't go anywhere." His eyes went round as saucers. "What if he followed me here? You're in danger, then, too! I can't believe I didn't think. I didn't know where else to go and I—"

"Okay," Kurt said, holding him together. "Okay, calm down. You did the right thing, I'm glad you came here. You can stay over, okay?"

"But Rachel—"

"I don't care," Kurt said. "Your safety is more important than anything else."

Blaine tried to smile, but failed.

"Come on, let's go get you something to wear," Kurt said.

They went to Kurt's bedroom and Kurt pulled items of clothing from his closet and allowed Blaine to change in the bathroom. He came out minutes later changed, with the gel washed out of his hair, wild curls on top of his head. He looked sheepish, small and worried.

"Come here," Kurt said, reaching out for Blaine's hand. He took it and they curled up together on Kurt's bed. Blaine felt safe, warm, but still couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry about this morning," Blaine whispered, gazing into Kurt's eyes.

"Don't be," Kurt said. "You know the only reason I haven't told Rachel is that she'll never shut up about it. Trust me, when you meet her, you'll see that."

"You want me to meet her?"

"Of course," Kurt said, giving him his best smile. "She's my best friend and you're my boyfriend. Of course I want you to meet her. You could have met her tonight at Callbacks. It was awful, they all looked down on me."

"But you're incredible," Blaine said, smiling small.

"Well, thank you for saying so," Kurt said, hugging him closer. He tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair. "I like your natural hair."

Blaine eased into Kurt's touch and was struck with the sudden urge to cry. He let out an unintentional whimper and then closed his eyes to stop the tears.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked.

Blaine only nodded.

"You can stay here for as long as you need," Kurt went on. "I'd feel better if you did."

"I need to work, Kurt."

"What if you see him again?"

Blaine shrugged and Kurt sighed and held him closer still.

"Do you ever think about what life would be like if we'd met back in Ohio?" Blaine asked quietly.

"What do you think would have happened to us?" Kurt enquired.

"I think we would have hit it off," Blaine told him, with a sad smile. "I think you could have saved me."

"You don't need saving, Blaine."

"I think if we'd met back then I would have held on, for you. I think everything would be very different and that we'd be happy."

"We are happy, aren't we?" Kurt asked.

"Together," Blaine confirmed with a nod. "When we're apart, I'm not that happy."

"My sophomore year, I almost sneaked into your school."

Blaine looked up. "What?"

"We had a guys versus girls assignment and the guys told me to make myself useful and go spy on the competition. It was the Warblers that year. I got to the gates and turned back. It was so big, so ridiculously private. I left." Kurt paused. "Do you remember competing against us?"

"I ran away right before the competition," Blaine confessed. "Do you think we would have met? If you'd come inside?"

"Maybe," Kurt said. "It's a big school. Maybe not."

"We might have met at the competition then," Blaine said. "I would have talked to you if I'd seen you. I would have asked for your number."

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, but who knows what might have happened? Maybe things would have gone downhill."

"I don't know how much worse it could be."

"Hey, we're here. Together. Now." Kurt kissed his forehead. "I think it could be worse."

Blaine smiled. "You're right," he said, quietly. "The important part is that I found you."

For the moment, he was happy, but something inside of him reminded him that this could all end at any second, leaving him stranded and alone once more.

* * *

"Oh, my God!"

Kurt jolted awake at the shrill words of Rachel Berry the following morning. He heard a soft groan next to him and remembered Blaine and it was then that he saw that Rachel's wide eyes were on the other boy.

"Rachel, close your mouth," Kurt said, irritably. "Also the door."

"Kurt!" Rachel hissed. "There is a boy in your bed!"

"I am aware," he said, quietly, so as not to wake Blaine up. "Look, I don't see the big deal. You said you wanted to meet my boyfriend."

Rachel's eyes went even wider. "That's Blaine?!" she asked.

"What, you thought I'd bring a random guy home and let him in my bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He hoped Blaine hadn't heard that and taken offense.

"He looks...small." She took a step forward. "I didn't expect him to look like that."

"He is not small," Kurt told her. "He's cute. Now please leave before you embarrass him."

She pouted. "But I wanted to say hello."

"I'll bring him to meet you at breakfast and I already know it's far too early for the average human being to be up, so go do your vocal exercises and we'll be with you later."

Rachel huffed, before leaving the room, shutting the door again. Kurt sighed and lay back down, trying not to wake Blaine, but it seemed he was already awake. He rolled over, making a small, mumbling sound.

"Kurt?"

"It's okay, go to sleep, it was just Rachel."

He pushed himself up. "I should leave—"

"You're not going anywhere," Kurt told him. "Come on, lie back down."

"But—"

"Come on, stay with me," Kurt said, smiling. "I told her you'd say hi at breakfast."

"Kurt..." Blaine sounded uncertain.

"If you really don't want to, you don't have to," Kurt promised. "But stay and sleep a little longer. It's only about 5am. Rachel is an early riser. She'll be a little loud with her vocal warm ups, but if you try hard enough you can block it out."

As if on cue, Rachel's voice filled the apartment. Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt laughed.

"Now you see what I have to put up with," he told Blaine. "If you stay, we could try to ignore her."

Blaine swallowed as Kurt touched a hand to his chest, eyes dropping to his lips.

"O-okay," Blaine managed.

"Yeah?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt kissed him slowly. Cautious hands crept around Kurt's waist, pulling him closer to him. Kurt allowed Blaine to guide him forward so that they were pressed together, kissing slowly, wetly. Kurt didn't wrap himself around Blaine, didn't want to make him feel obligated to do anything. Instead, he held onto his shoulders and deepened the kiss, loving the way his heart hammered in his chest.

"Why does she get up so early?" Blaine pulled back to ask.

"She likes to warm her voice up every morning," Kurt told him. "She doesn't leave for Saturday rehearsals for another 3 hours."

Blaine reached up and took Kurt's chin between his fingers, then pressed their lips together again. "Will she come in here again?"

Kurt only shook his head.

"Is this okay?"

Kurt nodded.

Blaine bit his lips. "I mean...is it okay that we just...that we just, um, make out?"

Kurt nodded again. He blushed as he spoke then. "I am a virgin, remember," he said. "I want to go slow."

Blaine's eyes flashed and he dropped his hands from Kurt's body. He looked away.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked.

Blaine eased Kurt off of him and sat up, then covered his face with his hands. "You're a virgin," he said.

Kurt sat up, too and eyed him carefully. "You already knew that," he said. "I didn't think it was a problem."

Blaine shook his head. "No, I don't mean it like that," he said. "I knew already and I swear, it's not an issue, it isn't, it's just... God, Kurt. You're a virgin and I'm afraid to have sex with you because I don't want to ruin this, but... I just don't know how long I'm going to be like this and what if I never want to have sex? You're a virgin, Kurt. Losing your virginity is special. Not for me it wasn't, but for you it will be and if you want to be with me, if you see a future for us, how can you be happy with never losing your virginity?"

Kurt smiled, semi-relieved. "Blaine," he said. He took Blaine's hands in his own. "This is such an unnecessary worry. You don't know what you'll want in the future."

"Kurt—"

"Baby—"

"You called me baby last night."

Kurt's eyes dropped, cheeks burning. "Oh, um, I..." He coughed. "Is that...?"

"No, I like it," Blaine confessed. "I mean...unless you didn't mean to say it."

"I did," Kurt told him, eyes widening. "I did. I just...it just came out. Is that okay?"

Blaine smiled, making Kurt relax a bit. "It's perfectly okay."

"Okay," Kurt said, reaching for Blaine's hands again. "Baby," he added, quietly, a shy smile on his lips.

Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt's lips once.

"Is everything okay?" Kurt asked. "Are we okay?"

Blaine nodded. "You're okay with it?"

"Yes and I do see a future for us," he said. "I told my dad."

* * *

Blaine gaped at his boyfriend. "Told your dad," he repeated, quietly. "Told him...what exactly?"

Kurt smiled. "Everything."

"Everything."

Kurt nodded.

"Like..." Blaine shook his head, slowly. "_Everything?_"

Kurt nodded a second time. "Everything," he said again. "My dad and I, we've always been honest with each other and...I do recall you getting kind of mad when I failed to tell Rachel everything."

Blaine shrugged. "I'm not mad that you told," he said. "I just know how people feel about people like me. Especially when they're dating their sons."

Kurt twisted around. "My dad isn't dating you, Blaine, I am. So, whatever he thinks or says doesn't matter, because he isn't the one dating you."

Blaine looked unconvinced. "What did he say?"

Kurt sighed. "He wasn't exactly ecstatic, but he's happy I'm happy. He's just...concerned."

"Understandably."

"He doesn't need to be."

Blaine let out a long breath and looked up to meet Kurt's eyes. "Don't you have any worries about this? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

Kurt looked completely calm as he said, "Well, I never did claim to like it, but we're doing okay, right?"

"But you deserve to do better than 'okay'," Blaine said. "And your dad knows that. You know that."

Kurt groaned and lay back, eyes closed. "I'm doing amazingly, thank you. I'm interning at Vogue dot com. I'm reapplying to NYADA. I got out of Lima and made it to the city of my dreams. I've got a family that loves me and a crazy, but not so bad best friend living with me and I've got a gorgeous, funny, caring, kind, adorable, beautiful, loving boyfriend. What more could I ask for?"

"A boyfriend who's faithful to you maybe."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you weren't cheating on me."

"Well, not in the typical sense, but—"

"Give yourself a break," Kurt said softly. "You deserve it."

Blaine was too exhausted to keep it up, so he sighed and lay back next to Kurt. "What time are you in work?"

"Not until ten," Kurt said.

"Okay, fall asleep with me then," he said.

So he did.

* * *

"Good mornin', good mornin'! We've danced the whole night through, good mornin', good mornin' to you!"

"Oh, God," Kurt mumbled, taking Blaine by the elbow and steering him towards the kitchen, past the couch, where Rachel was singing at the top of her voice.

"She's good," Blaine said, quietly.

"Mmhmm and she knows it."

"Kurt! Blaine!"

"Oh, God," Kurt said again.

Rachel's eyes were wide and wild as they settled on Blaine. "Blaine," she said. "I'm delighted to finally meet you in the flesh! You're every bit as handsome as Kurt tells me."

"Hi, Rachel," Blaine said, grinning. "You're every bit as talented as Kurt tells me."

Kurt mumbled another 'oh, God' as he slipped past his friend and his boyfriend to make some coffee. He popped a few slices of bread into the toaster and leaned against the fridge, watching Rachel and Blaine.

"You have to sing for me sometime!" she gushed. "Has Kurt heard you sing—have you heard Kurt sing?"

"I've heard him a little," Blaine said, smiling.

"A Warbler, though," she said dramatically. "Tough competition, but we were the better team on the day, no offence."

"Blaine didn't compete against us, Rachel," Kurt said.

Her nose wrinkled. "But..."

"I, um, had some stuff going on. Couldn't make it," Blaine said, shrugging.

"Oh," she said. "So, what is it that you do, Blaine?"

"Rachel," Kurt said with emphasis. He looked at Blaine. "You don't have to tell her anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Blaine twisted around to look at Kurt. "If I tell her the truth will it make things awkward or-or difficult for you in any way?"

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "She makes my life difficult enough as it is. Nothing you could say could make that any worse or better. Tell her if you're comfortable."

Blaine blinked and looked down at his shoes. "I, um, haven't really told many people this and I know you care about Kurt and you'll worry. I mean, I worry, I just...don't really know if I'm strong enough to let him go—"

"I don't need setting free, Blaine," Kurt interjected, rolling his eyes.

Blaine nodded. "Um, so, what I do is... I, um, I'm a-a prostitute."

Rachel's eyes were wide and filled with horror. Her mouth opened.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't say it!" Kurt warned her.

"But Kurt!" she exclaimed.

"Rachel, sit down. Just sit down and think about how the things you say could hurt people."

Rachel was muttering to herself, eyes wide, as she headed back to the sofa. Kurt looked at Blaine, who was still looking down at his feet.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, going around the kitchen to touch his arm. Blaine just nodded very slowly. Kurt sighed and tugged him into a hug, shooting an oblivious Rachel a piercing glare over his shoulder. "It's okay," Kurt told Blaine. "She'll get over it."

Blaine pulled back. "It's not okay, Kurt," he whispered. "God, it's so not okay."

"Oh, don't cry!" Rachel said, getting to her feet. "Please, don't cry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" She went to his side and pulled tissue from nowhere.

"I'm not crying," Blaine told her truthfully, but she handed him the tissues anyway.

"Well, this is—crap! The toast!" Kurt quickly unplugged the toaster and then his phone rang. "Damn," he whispered, digging in his pocket. He pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Kurt, it's me."

"Dad," Kurt said. He watched as Rachel led Blaine to the sofa, her arm around his back.

"I'm fine, Rachel," Blaine was saying.

"Hey, Kurt," Burt said. "How're things?"

"Fine, things are..." He trailed off, eyes on Blaine, who looked horrified.

Rachel was rubbing his arm. "It's okay to cry, Blaine. Let it all out. It's easier than keeping it all inside."

"Kurt?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, Dad. I'm here."

"Is something the matter?"

"I'm not a therapist, but I'm here to listen, Blaine."

"Rachel, I don't need—"

"Start from the beginning. When did you realise you had a problem?"

"Rachel!" Kurt said, walking across the room. "Leave him alone. Blaine, go back in my room. I'll bring your coffee." He shot Rachel a glare, as Blaine scurried away into the bedroom. "You and I need to talk," he told her.

"Kurt?"

He stopped, remembering his father. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dad. Things got slightly chaotic, but you have my full attention now."

"Did you just send Blaine to your room? _Back _to your room?"

"...yes?"

"Kurt, it's 7.22am."

"I know," he said.

"And you sent him _back_ to your room."

"Dad, stop."

"You told me you weren't—"

"And I didn't lie to you," Kurt said, sitting down. Rachel stood up and gestured to her room, before disappearing inside. "He just...had a rough day yesterday, so he stayed over. It's nothing more than that."

"Had a rough day," Burt repeated.

Kurt took a deep breath. "Dad, can we not get into it? He has a right to get upset every now and then, can't you understand that?"

He heard Burt let out a long sigh. "He can choose to change his lifestyle."

"It's not that simple, Dad. He didn't even graduate from high school. He doesn't have the money to put himself through school and he won't let anyone help him out. Put yourself in that position, Dad. He's stuck and he doesn't know how to get out. He's unhappy and he needs people around him and right now, I'm the only one he's got."

Burt sighed again. "This is a bad situation, Kurt."

"You're making it worse than it is, Dad," Kurt insisted. "He's not a monster, or-or some kind of criminal—"

"It's against the law, Kurt."

"I know that. I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were."

"He's a good person, Dad. If you met him, you'd see that."

"So let me meet him."

Kurt stopped. "What?"

"Yeah," Burt said, calmly. "Thanksgiving's comin' up. Bring him back."

Kurt wavered. "You don't think that's too big of a step? It's only been a couple of months. I don't want to scare him off—"

"Pretty sure the scaring off would come from his side in this relationship."

"Dad," Kurt groaned.

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well, don't. He's not scaring me off. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," Burt said. "So, if it's that serious, bring him home for Thanksgiving."

Kurt nodded. "I'll talk to him," he said. "I've gotta go, Dad. Rachel ran her mouth again and I think Blaine might be a little upset. I need to go—"

"Alright," Burt said. "You keep bein' careful, okay?"

"I promise. I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, kid. Take care of yourself."

* * *

Blaine lifted his head at the sound of a rap on the door. It opened slowly and Kurt popped his head inside.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"It's your room," Blaine reminded him.

Kurt smiled. He came inside and closed the door behind him. "I don't mind staying outside if you need some space."

Blaine shook his head. Kurt went closer and sat down on the bed next to Blaine. He had a cup in his hand and he handed it to Blaine, who mumbled a 'thanks'.

"She's a lot," he told Blaine, who nodded. "I didn't mean for her to hurt you—"

"She didn't," he said truthfully. "It's just...I hate that your friends and family react like that and judge you. I'm used to being judged. It's nothing new, but you. You're so—"

"You know, when I said I wanted to be your boyfriend, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I can handle it. I won't let it get to me. We are going to be fine."

Blaine looked down at his lap. "But Rachel is your best friend, Kurt and if your best friend can react like that, then imagine what others—"

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

Blaine stopped still. "I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving in years. I haven't had a lot to be thankful for. So, I guess I'll just be taking a day off."

Kurt looked sad for a moment, but covered it up quickly. "Come back to Ohio with me and spend it with my family."

Blaine gaped at him. "I c-couldn't. I can't do tha—"

"I want you to and so does my dad," Kurt said, smiling. "Come on, I'll feel better if I know you're not all by yourself. Come home with me and you can even drop by your old house if you w—"

"No," Blaine said instantly. "Kurt, not Ohio. I can't."

Ohio had too many ghosts for him, too many bad memories and painful, broken dreams and people he never wanted to see again.

"Just my house then. We'll just go to and from the airport and then back." Kurt looked hopeful when he said it and Blaine didn't want to disappoint him, but he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Kurt, I can't afford—"

"Let me pay," Kurt said. "Come on, I get paid well at Vogue. Let me do this one thing for you. Besides I am the one who is insisting you come. It would be wrong of me to let you pay."

Blaine looked down at his hands and let out a long, weary breath. Kurt reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked up.

"I don't think I can go back to Ohio, Kurt." It came out in a whisper, strained and small and frightened.

"I won't force you," Kurt promised. "But think about it? I don't want to leave you here by yourself."

Blaine nodded. "I'll think about it, but I can't promise anything."

"I know," Kurt said. "Thank you." He leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You look exhausted."

Blaine shrugged. "I'll be okay," he said.

"You know what you should do? Go back to sleep."

Blaine nodded. That was a good and appealing idea. "I will, the second I get home—"

"No," Kurt cut in. "My bed, Blaine. Get in and go to sleep for a few hours. I'll leave you my spare key and you can leave when you need to, okay? Just get some rest."

Blaine shook his head. "I couldn't do that, Kurt."

"Of course you can," Kurt said, like it was final. "Come on," he said standing up and pulling the covers back for Blaine to climb inside. "You can borrow anything you need and you can shower and I'll even let you use my expensive products."

Blaine smiled. "Wow, this relationship is getting serious," he half-joked.

Kurt chuckled. "Well, it is. So, come on. Get into my bed, Blaine."

"How forward of you," Blaine said, with a smile. He stood up and walked around to where Kurt stood, then leaned in and kissed him sweetly. "Thank you."

"I'll call you during my break, okay?"

Blaine nodded and he wanted to say it, wanted to just lean in close and whisper the three words that would bring their relationship over that invisible, fiery line, but he didn't. Instead, he kissed Kurt's lips once again and climbed into the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beautiful." Kurt kissed his forehead and crept out of the room to let him sleep. Blaine had never felt so cherished.

* * *

_We need to talk._

Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel's text and pushed himself across the room in his spinning chair. He stopped in front of the phone and tapped her number in, then waited until she picked up.

"Rachel Berry speaking," she said sounding chirpy.

"It's me."

"Oh," she said, voice dropping to its usual octave. "You have got so much explaining to do, Kurt Hummel."

"Are you home already?"

"Quit trying to change the subject," Rachel said. "But I'm in the elevator."

"I'm not changing the subject, Rachel," he told her. "Besides, I am not the one who tried to give my boyfriend counselling."

"Your boyfriend is a whor—"

"No," Kurt said, firmly. "No, don't start calling him derogatory names, Rachel. He's had a hard life, he doesn't do what he does because he likes it. He does it because he has to. So, no, you don't get to sit there calling him names behind his back."

He heard the sound of the elevator ringing and coming to a halt.

"You know, Kurt, I understand that life is difficult at times, but there's always somewhere to turn. Always."

"Not always, Rachel," Kurt said. "Blaine wouldn't be doing this if he'd had an alternative."

"Yes, but—ahh! Kurt! Someone has been in our apartment!" Then a little louder, "Whoever is in here, I've got pepper spray!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Rachel, it's not—"

"They've been in the kitchen."

"Rachel, can you just stop freaking out—"

"Kurt, the intruder left a note!"

"Rachel," Kurt said, tiredly. "There is no intruder."

"Well, Kurt, what else do you think it is? Oh, God, what if it's a ghost! I knew someone died here, Kurt! I told you I had that vision—"

"Rachel. I told Blaine to stay as long as he wanted to, will you calm down?" He shook his head.

"You let a prostitute stay in our home?" she exclaimed. "That's worse than an intruder!"

"I'm hanging up."

"Oh, Kurt, don't be such a drama queen," she said, irritably.

"Then quit it. He had a rough day. I told him to get some sleep. It's nothing sinister."

"A rough day," she repeated.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," he said. "Just...give him a chance, Rachel."

She sighed dramatically. "I'm sure he was a very nice person, once, but Kurt, he sells _sex_. Please tell me you're being safe—"

"Okay, now I'm hanging up."

This time, he did.

* * *

Blaine left Kurt and Rachel's apartment after leaving a short note on the refrigerator door, apologising for the incident that morning and telling Kurt he would talk to him later and also thanking him for allowing him to stay. He made his way back to his own building, wary of the guy from the day before, who was in all likelihood not there, but he still couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was being watched.

Blaine walked up the rickety staircase to his floor, thoughts of Kurt on his mind and how Rachel had reacted. The last thing Blaine wanted to do was make Kurt's life difficult because of his job. Kurt was nothing but good to him and he hated the idea of anyone judging Kurt because of his taste in men. Blaine knew that the sensible thing to do would be to end their relationship, but he just wasn't strong enough to do that. He wasn't quite ready to let go and he wasn't sure he ever would be.

Blaine reached his floor and dug his hand into his pocket to find his key and that was when he heard the sound of a door opening. He froze before realising it was just his neighbour next door. She was a middle aged woman who was constantly drunk, but today, it seemed, she was sober enough to look Blaine from head to toe in disgust.

"Oh, look," she said, a sneer on her face, "it's the whore."

Blaine ignored her and continued searching for his key. Where the hell was it?

"Back from a long night of whoring? How much did you make? Probably not much."

He sighed and checked his jeans. Blaine was unsure as to how she had found out about him in the first place. Maybe she had seen him coming and going at all hours and assumed. Maybe she had seen him out. It didn't matter either way.

"You know, I'll bet—"

Before she could finish that sentence, Blaine found his key in his back pocket and opened the door and went inside, before shutting her out. He heard the cruel cackle of her laughter fading down the hall as she left. Blaine pulled out his sofa bed and climbed under the blanket, hoping to spend a few hours sleeping, a few hours where he wouldn't have to do any thinking at all.

Just as he was drifting off, his phone rang. He scrambled to get it on time and answered as he made his way back to bed.

"Hi," he said, knowing it was Kurt without checking the caller i.d.

"Hey, are you home?"

"Yeah, just got in. How's work?" he asked, settling against the pillows again.

"Quiet," he said. "Rachel thought we had an intruder."

"Oh," Blaine said. "Sorry, I was trying to find a pen."

Kurt chuckled musically on the other end. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I know you're tired, I'll let you get some sleep, but do me a favour?"

"Name it," Blaine said, hoping he could agree to whatever Kurt wanted.

"Think about coming home with me for Thanksgiving," Kurt said.

Blaine stifled a sigh and nodded. "I promised I'd think about it," he said, "and I will. I just don't want you to be disappointed if I decide I can't do it."

Kurt did sigh. "I'm going to be disappointed if you say no, but only because we won't see each other for a few days and because you'll be all by yourself, but I'll understand, Blaine." He paused. "I know we don't talk about your past much, but...you know I'm here to listen. I don't know what happened, I know it wasn't good and that you aren't at a good place with it, so I will understand if you can't come. I just really want you to."

Blaine found himself smiling. "Thank you," he said. "I promise I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking," Kurt told him. "I'll let you get back to sleep. Text me tonight?"

"Of course," he promised. "Have a good day," he added.

He could hear Kurt smiling when he said, "You, too. Talk to you later."

"Later," he repeated, then waited until the line went dead to whisper the words, "I love you," to the cold, empty apartment.

* * *

**I'll try update soon, let me know what you think :) Now I'm off to write a paper sigh.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, I own nothing. I realise it's been a while, but life has been crazy lately for some reason, but I'm hoping to get better at updating. Here's a long one as an apology. This chapter could be triggery. There's a lot of hurt/comfort and there's some smut, too, which I'll write a note about at the end. This was by far one of my favourite chapters to write of anything ever, and it's definitely been my favourite to write of this fic so far. Thanks to Denise and Rebecca for the encouragement, and thanks to all of you for reading/reviewing. I love youuuu and I hope you like it!**

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

"I can't do it, you know," Blaine whispered a couple of days later at the end of one of their dates.

His eyes were wide and wet and shining and his bottom lip was quivering ever so slightly. Kurt watched him, waited for him to say more, but he never did. It was almost as if he couldn't say more and so, Kurt let out a breath and took a step closer to show him that it didn't matter, that he got it, that turning Thanksgiving at his house down wasn't going to change anything.

"It's okay," Kurt promised, smiling slowly. "It's okay."

* * *

Blaine took his eyes off the TV screen to watch Kurt as he climbed onto the other end of the couch, sketchbook in hand. Blaine couldn't help smiling, watching as he started to draw, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. It took a long time for Kurt to realise Blaine was watching him.

"What?" he asked when he did.

"Just looking," Blaine told him. "What's the deal with this anyway?" He gestured to the sketchbook.

Kurt sat up and frowned, eyes on the sketch. "I give these to Isabelle. I'm probably going to be in paperwork for a long time, so they may as well get used by somebody."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "But you're so good."

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. "Mr Charlemont hasn't even mentioned moving me up. I don't think he likes me and he needs to be the one to move me on so that I'm working under—or with, I guess—Isabelle. Work my way up and all that."

Blaine reached across and touched Kurt's knee. "You should talk to him about it."

"Yeah," Kurt said with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "Maybe."

He went back to shading in the outfit he had drawn, so Blaine turned his attention back to the TV set, just as the show changed to commercials. He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't make a big deal out of it.

"What's up?" Kurt asked anyway.

"I hate commercials," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt looked up. "Oh, the guy in this one is hot. Remember he was in those credit rating commercials?"

Blaine mumbled quietly.

"You don't think he's hot?"

Blaine shrugged.

"Anyway, I heard he got signed to a movie and a new tv show."

Blaine looked up. "He did?"

Kurt nodded, eyes on his drawing again. "I read it in some newspaper lying around work."

Blaine looked up at the TV just as the commercial ended. "Good for him," he said to no one in particular. "What's the movie?"

"You're awfully interested for someone who doesn't think he's hot."

Blaine looked across at Kurt, who was smirking at him. "I was just thinking about how huge the transition is from toothpaste commercials to Hollywood movies, that's all. I don't think he's hot, he looks kind of...full of himself."

"Well, he does have good teeth, but I guess I can't argue with that." Kurt chuckled and left his things down on the coffee table, before crawling down the couch so that he was closer to Blaine. "Are you watching this?" he asked, gesturing to the TV.

"Are you offering me something better? Then again, what is better than _Ultimate Cake Off_?"

Kurt raised both eyebrows and positioned himself so that Blaine had no choice but to slide backwards on the couch, Kurt leaning over him, too close, but not quite close enough.

"You were saying?" Kurt said, smiling.

Blaine reached up to wind his arms around Kurt's waist and tug him down on top of him. "I don't remember what I was saying," Blaine admitted, unable to take his eyes off Kurt's lips.

Kurt chuckled again and leaned down to kiss him once. "Thought not," he said. "Rachel's gonna be gone for a few hours, you know. She's making the best of her last day with Brody before we leave for Ohio."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm," Kurt said. "I wish you could come with me."

Blaine smiled and lifted a hand to Kurt's cheek. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise. It's perfectly okay and understandable, I just hate the idea of you being by yourself. Do you still have my spare key?"

"I forgot about that." Blaine shuffled and tried to stand up to get the key from his jacket.

Kurt pushed him back down. "No, I don't want it back. I want you to hold onto it. I want you to be able to come here if you feel like it, or if you need to, especially while I'm gone. I know you don't want me over at your place and I stopped taking it personally a little while back, so just...if you want to spend a few days here, then do."

"Kurt, I can't—"

"Please, Blaine."

He looked up and saw the intensity in his eyes, so he sighed and said, "Okay. Thank you."

Kurt's grin was reward enough. "So, _Ultimate Cake Off,_" he said. "Willing to blow it off?"

"I would make so many inappropriate jokes were I not a gentleman," Blaine joked. "But for you? Sure." He paused. "It's not, by the way."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Not what?"

"Not personal," he clarified. "I'd love to have you over, it's just that...I don't want this relationship to be based on pity."

"It isn't," Kurt assured him.

"I know and I'd like it to stay that way," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded and pressed himself closer. "I'll keep out of your business if you think it's for the best," he said.

Blaine smiled gratefully. "Now, I believe you promised me something better than cake," Blaine said, with a smirk.

Kurt let out a breathy laugh and bent down so that his lips were dangerously close to Blaine's, but not quite as close as he would have liked. "Better than cake," he whispered. "How's this?"

Blaine's breath caught when Kurt's crotch collided with his own as he bent to kiss him. Both boys froze and stared at one another, eyes wide, lips parted. Blaine could feel his arousal stirring and if the way Kurt began shaking was any indication, Kurt felt the same. Blaine found himself in a war with himself. On the one hand, he wanted Kurt close like he had never wanted anyone close before, but on the other hand, he didn't want their relationship to be in any way similar to what he did for a living. Kurt looked horrified, but his eyes had darkened and his breath was coming in stutters.

Blaine made a decision then. He reached up and held onto Kurt's hips, then lifted his lower body upwards as he pulled Kurt's down. Kurt let out a louder, shaking breath and his cheeks flushed pink, eyes watching Blaine carefully.

"Are you—"

"Is this—"

They laughed quietly, nervously, then stopped just as suddenly. They didn't move for a good thirty seconds and then Kurt nodded very slowly, so Blaine took it as approval and repeated the motion again. Kurt fell down on top of him, mouths colliding, hips working quickly, frantically, hands tugging at shirt hems and collars. Blaine's heart was beating manically in his chest and he was holding Kurt's body to his own like he was afraid to let go. He could feel the all too familiar coiling in his lower stomach and Kurt was letting out small, desperate, whining sounds against his lips and he was moving his hips expertly, like he had done it a million times before.

"Oh, God, Blaine," Kurt said, voice high and broken and Blaine's hips stuttered and he came first, something he hadn't done willingly in a long time. Kurt tried to stop grinding his hips.

"No, don't stop," Blaine said, feeling his own cheeks flushing. He pulled Kurt's hips down again. "Don't stop."

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to stifle his moans, so Blaine caught his lips in a bruising kiss again and lifted his own body to meet Kurt's and it only took a few more seconds for Kurt's to still and come in his pants. They lay there, Kurt on top of Blaine, bodies slack, breathing laboured and then Kurt pushed himself up and he sat up straight, so Blaine did, too. There was a long, painful silence, within which they avoided eye contact and speech and then finally, Blaine found his voice.

"Was that okay?" he dared to ask. Kurt turned and looked at him, eyes wide and then he was laughing and leaning in to kiss Blaine's lips again.

"Okay?" Kurt asked, still laughing. "I came in my pants like a schoolboy in a strip club, Blaine." His cheeks and the tip of his nose were still pink. "It was more than okay."

Blaine nodded and kissed him back, relieved, but feeling conflicted, because he still worried that it would affect their relationship negatively. Kurt stopped laughing then, but he was still pressed close to Blaine's side. He cleared his throat.

"Was it... Was that okay for you?" he asked, blue eyes dropping.

"They don't...when I'm with..._them_. They don't care about me...you know, getting off. They never..." Blaine reached across and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His blush had darkened. "I've never felt that close to anyone before," he confessed.

"So it was okay," Kurt said, softly.

"More than okay," Blaine said. "I've never done that with anyone, you know."

Kurt gave him a genuine smile then. "Me, neither," he told him. "I'm glad it was you."

"I'm glad it was you, too," Blaine replied.

Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder and sighed happily.

"Don't you want to clean up?" Blaine enquired.

"Mm hmm," Kurt said. "But not now. I just want to savour this moment for another few minutes," he said.

Blaine didn't answer, because he was a little stunned. Suddenly, all his inhibitions about what had just happened fizzled away into nothingness. He didn't feel the same regret and dread that he so often felt following a sexual act. This was different, this was...something he wouldn't mind getting used to.

"I should get up," Kurt said a while after. "I feel disgusting, but...the complete opposite of disgusting at the same time. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Blaine said. "It makes perfect sense."

And for the first time, it did.

* * *

"I hope we don't get burgled while we're gone," Rachel said, as she and Kurt rode the elevator to the ground floor. "I'm leaving some very valuable things behind, you know."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I told Blaine he could hang out here, so I'm sure he'll call if anything seems out of place."

Rachel swung around and squealed. "You're letting him stay at our apartment while we're not here?" she exclaimed. "Kurt! What if he steals something?"

Kurt groaned. "Rachel, he's not going to steal anything."

"He sells his body for money, I'm sure slipping some of my prized jewellery into his pockets isn't going to be a problem."

"I am sick of you talking about him like that," Kurt told her as walked through the now open elevator doors. "You don't hear me complaining about your creepy boyfriend, even when he's traipsing around butt naked while I'm trying to watch _Grey's Anatomy_. Blaine has never done that."

Rachel huffed and followed him, pulling her luminous pink suitcase behind her. "Blaine traipses around hotel rooms naked with sleazy, old men!"

Kurt quickened his pace, despite the heavy bags he was carrying. She ran to catch up with him.

"Kurt!" she cried.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say," he informed her.

"But Kurt!" she said, breathlessly. "I'm just looking out for you! I'm being honest and if you would just pay attention to what I'm saying—"

Kurt stopped still in the street and turned to face her. She almost fell down as she came to a stop, trying to control her suitcase.

"Since the moment he told you, all you've done is talk crap about Blaine. Okay, he isn't perfect, not in the traditional sense of the word and he's got issues and what he does is far from ideal, but he's still a person and he's still my boyfriend and it hurts him. And you know what, Rachel? It hurts me, too. I've been supportive of whatever this thing is you've got going with that real life Ken doll you like to sneak out in the mornings, despite the fact that you've been ignoring my brother.

"Brody isn't perfect either, Rachel. He may look it, he may even pretend that he is, but he's not. In fact, I would really, really appreciate it if he wore some clothes around the apartment. I don't say anything, because you're my friend and I know you like him. So, please, have the decency to be a little bit open minded about Blaine. He doesn't hurt anyone. He's completely harmless, yet you act like he's out to infect the world with some kind of poison. He makes me happy. I'm the only person he has, Rachel and he worries so much about what I think and he worries about what you think of me because of him. I get that you disapprove of what he does, but please, stop talking about him like he isn't a human being. You don't know what his life has been like, Rachel and you have no right to judge him."

Rachel folded her arms and frowned. "He's a prostitute, Kurt. They aren't good people."

"I don't want to talk to you right now," he told her, then turned around and started walking again. They didn't speak for the entire plane ride home.

* * *

Burt Hummel stood in the crowded airport, cap in his hands. The sound of chatter and the tripping noise of suitcase wheels was loud in his ears and he kept turning to look through the arrival gate, waiting for his son to return home. Carole was back home, cooking and preparing for the arrival of their sons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Burt could see Hiram and Leroy Berry nattering away where they sat in the plastic seats, dressed brightly and pristinely. He answered when they spoke to him and smiled politely when necessary, but his mind was elsewhere. It had been elsewhere ever since he had heard about his son's new boyfriend and although he had tried to see it from Kurt's point of view, he struggled, because it was a serious situation that he didn't know how to handle.

"OUR LITTLE STAR!"

"BABY GIRL!"

Burt turned at the sound of the Berry's voices next to him and saw Rachel running towards her fathers, a wide grin on her lips. Behind her, was Kurt, who was struggling with his heavy bags. Burt rushed to give him a hand.

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said, smiling.

"What have you got in this thing?" Burt asked, as the bag dragged him down by the arm. "Don't suppose you brought the new boyfriend and stuffed him in here?" he tried to joke.

Kurt laughed a humourless laugh. "He couldn't make it," he told Burt, despite having told him before. "I can carry that—"

"I've got it," Burt assured him. "Why don't you go say goodbye to Rachel and then we'll get goin'?"

Kurt looked away. "We're not on speaking terms," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Can we just go?"

"Sure," Burt said. "Let's go."

* * *

"So, you and Rachel..."

Kurt rolled his eyes at his father's lack of tact. "I don't want to talk about her." Kurt knew that Burt would probably agree with Rachel on the matter and he wasn't in the mood for that kind of discussion just yet.

"Alright," Burt said, following Kurt into the house. Before he could ask any more questions, Carole appeared in the hallway, smiling.

"Kurt! Welcome home," she said, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You look great."

"Thanks, Carole," Kurt said, pulling back to look at his step mother. "You do, too. I love your hair."

She smiled and touched a hand to her head. "Finn is upstairs," she told Kurt. "Come inside and tell me everything!"

An hour later, Kurt, Finn, Burt and Carole were seated around the dinner table having dinner. Finn was sharing a story about backpacking around Georgia, while the others listened and laughed. It was nice being back home with his family, something he missed out in New York. He could, however, feel Burt's eyes flicking to him every so often.

"So, Kurt," Finn said, once he'd finished telling his story. "Mom says you've got a boyfriend."

At that point, Burt choked a little and Carole shot him a glare. Kurt ignored that and looked at his step brother.

"Yes," he replied. "I suppose you're going to lecture me, too."

"Lecture you?" Finn asked, looking bewildered.

"Kurt, he doesn't—"

Kurt spoke over his dad. "As if I don't have to listen to Rachel complaining every five minutes—"

"Kurt—" Burt tried again.

"What's going on?" Finn asked.

"Is this the reason you and Rachel are fighting?" Burt enquired.

"You and Rachel are fighting?" Finn asked.

"Kurt and Rachel are fighting?" Carole asked.

"Rachel is a complete—"

"Language at the dinner table, Kurt," Burt warned.

Kurt let out a long sigh and everyone stopped talking and looked at him.

"What's wrong, Kurt?" Carole asked, finally.

Kurt looked up. "I'm just tired of having to defend myself about this."

"About what?" Finn asked, looking from Kurt, to Burt, to his mom. "What's going on?"

Burt and Carole exchanged a look and Kurt sighed again, then lifted his head to meet Finn's confused gaze.

"My boyfriend is a prostitute," he told him, bluntly. "If you've got a problem with that, kindly keep your thoughts to yourself."

Finn looked concerned, but he didn't say anything, just looked down at his peas. Carole cleared her throat and gave Burt a meaningful glare. Burt turned to Kurt.

"Look, Kurt, you gotta see things from our point of view. What would you say if Finn came home with a girl who did...that for a living?"

Kurt could, of course, see the point Burt was trying to make, but it was different. They didn't know Blaine, didn't understand that he was so easy to fall in love with. Kurt didn't know how to explain that to his family.

"I get what you're trying to say, but you don't understand," Kurt insisted. "He's not what you think."

"Kurt, your dad is just looking out for you," Carole interjected. "We're just concerned that you're being a little bit too...relaxed about the situation."

"Relaxed," Kurt repeated, flatly.

Carole nodded. "Right now, this relationship is new, exciting, but...Kurt, it's so complicated. It won't get easier. The more serious you two get, the harder it's going to be and I don't think you've considered that."

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head. "Just trust me to handle it," he begged. He lifted his eyes and looked at his dad, Carole and Finn. "I get that you're all looking out for me and trying to help me choose the right path, or whatever, but I am handling it and we're making it work, so please, just trust me. I really care about him. We've got a lot in common and I'm happy. Why can't you understand that?"

Nobody said anything in response, but both Burt and Carole nodded slowly. Then, Burt lifted his head and looked Kurt dead in the eye.

"Are you bein' safe?" he asked.

"Dad, we haven't—"

"I'm not asking what you have and haven't done, Kurt," Burt cut him off. "I just want to know you're bein' safe and that as your relationship progresses, that you're gonna continue to be safe."

Kurt gave in. "Yes, Dad, we'll be safe should we reach that point," he promised.

Burt nodded and stood up. "I'm gonna go get dessert," he said, then looked at Kurt again. "We're not done talking about this."

"Yeah," Kurt said, tiredly. "I didn't think we were."

* * *

Kurt sat in the living room alone later that night. Burt and Carole had gone to bed and Finn was in his room playing video games. Just as Kurt began wondering what Blaine was up to, his phone started buzzing away in his pocket. He got it out quickly and answered it, hoping it was his boyfriend.

"Hello?"

"It's me," came Blaine's voice. "How's Lima?"

Kurt smiled. "Lima is Lima," he joked. "It's good to see Dad, Carole and Finn, though. What have you been up to?"

"Not a lot,' he said. "Didn't feel like going out tonight so I'm extending my vacation time."

Kurt chuckled. "Less worry for me," he said. "Worrying about you and having to deal with the lectures here is more than I'm capable of handling."

He heard Blaine's sigh of despair. "Sorry," he said. "I don't want you to have a bad Thanksgiving because of me."

"I'm not going to have a bad Thanksgiving, Blaine," Kurt assured him. "They're just trying to get through to me when they really don't have to. They don't know you."

"They don't understand. I am glad you're taking a few days off, though. What are you going to do?"

"Probably just gonna spend a lot of it sleeping," he admitted. "I do less thinking that way."

Kurt frowned at that last part, but didn't push it because Blaine had asked him not to make a big deal of things. "You can hang out at my place if you want. Sleep over, eat our food, water the plants."

Blaine laughed then. "In that order?"

"If you like," Kurt joked. "Are you okay? I mean, by yourself?"

"I have a lot of experience in being by myself, I'll be absolutely fine."

Kurt nodded, still not entirely convinced, but again, he didn't push it. "I was thinking about last night."

"Oh," Blaine said, timidly.

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "It was okay, right? We... I mean, we are okay, aren't we?"

"Yeah, of course," Blaine said, still quiet. "I was worried, I thought that if we ever did anything...more than making out, that it would make things...I don't know, different, but they don't feel different, at least not in a bad way. I actually feel...really good about it all." He sounded convincing and it made Kurt smile.

"Me, too," Kurt told him. He heard a noise in the hallway and sat up straight to look in its direction. "Listen, I think someone's up. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," Blaine said. "I, um, I miss you, by the way."

"I miss you, too," Kurt said, a little breathless. "Sweet dreams."

"Yeah, you, too," Blaine said. "Night."

"Goodnight," Kurt answered, before ending the call. "You can come in now, Finn," he shouted out into the hall.

Finn appeared at the door a moment later, looking sheepish. "Uh, hey, dude," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Just came down for some chips."

"Mmhmm," Kurt said, not convinced. "Sure you did."

"Was that him? The boyfriend?"

Kurt nodded.

"Can I sit down?"

Kurt shrugged and Finn sat at the other end of the couch, looking unsure about something.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes.

"What happened last night? I mean, I think I can guess, it's just...I thought you and Burt didn't lie to each other."

Kurt sighed. "I'm not lying, Finn." He turned to face his step-brother. "You guys have nothing to worry about, okay? And even if we were doing anything like that, I'm not in any danger."

In truth, Kurt and Blaine had never actually had that conversation. Kurt had just assumed that Blaine got tested, but he felt as if it would be rude to bring it up.

Finn nodded slowly. "That's good to know," he said. "So, you and Rachel..."

Kurt let out a longer sigh this time. "Look, I know you love her and everything, but she has been a complete bitch about this entire thing, not to mention the fact that she has that smirking idiot..." He trailed off seeing Finn's frown. "I mean...Finn, I don't—"

"She's dating someone else?" he asked, sounding distressed.

"No, Finn, she isn't—"

"Kurt, just tell me the truth," he said, looking down at his knees, forehead creasing. "I deserve the truth."

Kurt nodded slowly. Finn was right. He did deserve the truth. Rachel was ignoring his phone calls, his texts, his emails. She obviously wasn't going to tell him anything any time soon and Finn was Kurt's brother after all.

"They aren't exclusive," he told Finn.

"What's he like?"

"Finn—"

"Tell me, Kurt."

Kurt sighed. "He's called Brody. He's at NYADA and he's...perfect. Too perfect, actually. Also possibly a nudist."

"He's been...?"

Kurt gave him a sad smile. Finn closed his eyes and flung his head back.

"Do you think she loves him?"

Kurt answered easily. "No," he said. "I do, however, think she likes the idea of it all. You know, the excitement of being in that kind of relationship?"

Finn tilted his head so that he was facing Kurt again and he opened his eyes. "Is that what it is for you? Excitement?"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "You mean with Blaine?" Finn nodded. "No," Kurt said, instantly. "No, Blaine and I are nothing like Rachel and Brody. Our relationship means something, theirs...doesn't." He shrugged.

"Blaine," Finn repeated experimentally. "He sounds like a douche."

"You don't even know him," Kurt said, too tired to get too defensive.

"I just don't understand how anyone can do what he does and be a decent person."

Kurt sighed. "Finn, he's had it hard. He doesn't want to do it. He hates it. He just...doesn't think he has a choice." He stood up. "Before you judge him, at least try to understand him. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Finn."

* * *

Blaine stood in Kurt's kitchen, body shaking, phone pressed to his ear, willing his boyfriend to just pick up. He knew Kurt was busy, that his family time was important to him, but he needed to hear his voice, needed some form of reassurance. Finally, the ringing came to a stop and Kurt spoke in his ear.

"Hey, you."

"Kurt," Blaine said.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, instantly.

Blaine eased himself down onto the couch and took a deep breath. "I'm at your apartment," he said. "I was on my way to the store, so I stopped by, just to make sure things were okay."

Kurt groaned. "Don't tell me we've been burgled," he begged. "I'm never going to be able to shut Rachel up now—"

"Kurt," Blaine said. "You haven't been burgled. It's just...I checked your phone messages, like you said I should before you left?" Kurt hummed his affirmation. "You had a message, but it was...for me."

"You?" Kurt asked, confusion plain in his voice.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "It was Rachel."

"Oh, God," Kurt said, horrified. "Blaine—"

"It's just..."

"Play it for me," he said. "I mean, if you can. If you don't want to, that's okay."

Blaine stood up and replayed the message for Kurt to hear.

"Blaine," Rachel's voice came, sounding slightly strained. "Kurt told me he said you could come here and I have to say, I am completely against the idea. Please, stay away from my room. If anything is stolen, I promise you, our family lawyer is exceptional."

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Blaine heard Kurt groan.

"And don't think about bringing any sleazy men back either!" Rachel went on. "You will pay for anything damaged or stained! If Kurt had told me sooner, I would have set up a CCTV system. He may be taken with your gentlemanly charm and your boyish good looks, but I assure you, I am not and frankly, Kurt is too good for you. He's got a bright future and he's talented and deserves so much more than a boy who pays his way with his body and if you cared about Kurt at all, you'd walk away."

"End it," Kurt demanded.

Blaine brought the phone back to his ear. "What?"

"End the message," Kurt said.

Blaine switched it off and sat back down, hands sweating.

"I'm so mad right now," Kurt told him and he sounded it. Blaine didn't say anything, just listened. "How dare she say those things to you! I am so beyond tired of her being a stuck up, little diva!" There was a sound of a door banging. "You can't listen to her," Kurt went on. "She has no idea what she's talking about and none of what she said was right."

Blaine made a small sound.

"Please tell me you aren't taking this to heart," Kurt said, voice softer. "Blaine, she's overreacting. She's trying to play at being a grown up, but she's acting like a spoilt little girl. You're enough. You're more than enough and I don't want you to walk away. God, I wish I was with you right now so that I could just convince you..."

"I didn't mean to spoil your Thanksgiving," Blaine said, quietly. "I don't know what I was looking for in calling you, whether it was reassurance or-or something else, I don't know. I just needed to hear you say...something. Anything. And I don't know if I wanted you to agree with her so that I could just get out of your life and let you find someone who can love you completely. I just panicked and I—"

"Blaine," Kurt said. "Blaine, calm down. Deep breaths. You're not ruining my Thanksgiving and I'm glad you called. You're upset. I know you are. She isn't right, Blaine and I could never agree with her. I don't want you out of my life. I want you in it. I want _you."_

Blaine nodded, eyes shut. His heart was still racing at a frantic beat.

"I want you," Kurt said again. "Do you want me, too?"

"You're all I want," Blaine confessed.

"Good," Kurt said and his smile was audible. "Then there isn't anything to worry about."

He nodded again. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just...she's your friend and I don't want to come between you."

"Trust me, none of this is your fault," Kurt assured him. "You just enjoy your break and don't worry about anything. Nothing could change the way I feel about you."

"Me neither," Blaine said. "Call me when you get the chance?"

"How's tonight?"

Blaine gave in to the smile. "Perfect."

* * *

"I'm thankful for food," Finn said and then stuttered when his mom shot him a glare. "And I'm thankful for all you guys and for home, because I've missed it." He grinned. "I'm thankful for friends and for Mr Schue, because he's letting me help him with glee. Oh, and I'm thankful that Rachel didn't shatter any bones, or anything."

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and Burt shook his head, as if to say 'don't ask'. Carole tried to hide her smile, but failed. She nodded at her son and then looked around the table. "I'm thankful for Burt," she said, smiling at her husband. "And for my boys. I'm glad you're both happy and that you're growing into strong, young men. I'm thankful for our health and I'm thankful that we're all here, together and that we're happy."

Kurt, Finn and Burt smiled at her and Burt reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. Carole looked at him and smiled back.

"Why don't you go now, Burt?" she asked.

Burt nodded and took off his cap. "Alright," he said. "I'm thankful that Finn got back to us safely. I'm thankful that Kurt's here and that the Big Apple didn't take him away from us completely." Kurt laughed. "I'm thankful for Carole and this great meal you've both prepared for us and I'm thankful for family, bein' together, no matter how far apart we're livin'."

Kurt smiled at his dad and cleared his throat. "My turn, I guess," he said. "I'm thankful for all of you. No matter how happy I am in New York, it's never going to be really home to me, because home is where all of you are." Carole tilted her head and smiled. "I'm thankful that we're all here together, too. I'm thankful for Rachel, despite all her crazy," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "She's still my best friend and I don't think I would have been able to survive some days without her," he admitted. "Even though I'm really mad at her right now. I'm thankful for Blaine," he went on, ignoring the way the others dropped their gazes. "I am. He's become a huge part of my life and he makes me happy and I'm thankful to have him, no matter what you all think. I hope one day you'll all understand." He paused. "Okay, let's eat."

Burt nodded and stood up and started to carve the turkey. His eyes, however, remained on his son.

* * *

"Okay," Burt said, sitting down next to Kurt on the couch that evening. "We're gonna talk about this."

Kurt pursed his lips and took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly and said, "Fine, but I draw the line at degradation or name calling in any way, shape or form."

"Of course," Burt agreed. "Alright," he said. "Here's how I see it. You've never known anyone else...like you. This kid comes along, he's cute, he likes the same things you do and you took to him, saw him as more than just a friend, because you could—"

"Dad," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"Let me finish, you'll get your turn," Burt said.

Kurt sighed and closed his mouth.

"And you know, maybe this kid — he's had a hard time — maybe he's had the same problem, you know, you showed him a little kindness and he saw you as more than just a friend,too—"

"No, Dad," Kurt said, adamantly. "I can't listen to this."

"Kurt, I'm just trying to—"

Kurt stood up. "You're trying to talk me out of being with him," he said. "You're not trying to understand. You don't know him."

"I don't want this to come between us, Kurt."

Kurt let out a long breath. "Dad," he said, calmly. "Nothing and no one is going to come between us, but you've got this all wrong. Blaine is harmless." He paused. "He didn't think he had any other choice. What if things had been different for me? What if I'd run off to the city by myself with practically no money or education? What if I'd found myself in a position where there was no other option? Then what? Would that make me a bad person? Would it mean I never deserve love or someone to care about me? He's a human being, Dad and I really care about him and he cares about me, too. If you could just think about what it must be like to be Blaine, maybe you'd see things differently."

Kurt gave him dad a small smile, before saying goodnight and going upstairs to bed. Burt Hummel sat on the couch, thinking.

* * *

The incessant sound of sirens sounded outside the open window. The air was cool and the room was clammy, but the noise was deafening and kept Blaine awake. He sighed and turned over in his pull-out bed, the room shadowed by the blind and the low-lit lamp. It wasn't often that he could afford to stay home at night, but it was the day after Thanksgiving and Kurt wanted him to take a break.

The things Rachel had said and the things Blaine knew Kurt's family would say had been running around his mind all day. And then there was Kurt, with his smiles and his laughs and his caring nature and the way he simply brushed off any negative comments and opinions and went on with Blaine as normal. Most of the inhibitions Blaine had had regarding their relationship had fizzled and died. For one, sexual intimacy didn't seem to have changed a thing for either of them.

Blaine turned away from the noise and the light and closed his eyes, smiling at the memory of being that close to Kurt, at the memory of the smile he had given him afterwards. He couldn't help remembering how it had felt being that close to Kurt, their bodies pressed flush together, touches uncertain, mouths frantic, yet careful. Blaine hadn't ever felt like that with anyone, and he had been with a lot of people. It was the want, he thought, the fact that nobody was in control of him or telling him what to do, the fact that with Kurt, he could let down his walls and let him inside. And reaching climax like that, with Kurt, was so unlike anything else. Blaine hadn't known it could be like that.

He lay back against the pillows, mind drifting to the way Kurt had moved against him and that was when he felt it; the twitch below the waist. Blaine was still a teenager, it was true, but that feeling, the one other teenagers experienced when they thought about sexual things, was long gone for him. Until now, it seemed. He turned over again, in an endeavour to rid himself of his growing erection, but it was futile. He tried to think of negative things and when that didn't work, he tried to recall all of the worst encounters he had had with men, but his mind would only drift back to Kurt and how the particular action would be so different with him.

Blaine sat up and sighed. He wouldn't touch himself. He hadn't touched himself in that way in so long and the idea of it sickened him. He didn't even like looking at himself. Yet he needed relief, needed something—_anything_. He brought his hand lower, cautiously, fingers edging dangerously close to the waistband of his old pyjama pants. And then he stopped, stomach twisting.

He couldn't do it.

* * *

Kurt worried his eyebrows together as he ended the call. He turned around and found his dad looking at him, concern in his eyes.

"Still no answer," he told Burt, slipping the phone into his pocket.

"Kid probably slept in," Burt offered. "You'd probably better get goin', huh? Flight's at 9.45?"

Kurt nodded. "Bye, Dad," he said, moving into the circle of his father's arms. "I'll call you when I land."

"You better," Burt joked, moving back. "Y'know, Rachel's been starin' over here for the past ten minutes."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm mad at her."

"Well, you know, this whole thing, it's hard, Kurt. You can't exactly blame her for bein' a little hesitant—"

"She left him a really offensive voice message, Dad. There's no excuse for that," he said, bending to grab his cases. "Anyway, I've gotta go," he said. "I'll call you," he said again.

"Alright, kid. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Kurt was aware of Rachel's eyes on him as they went through security. Kurt was retrieving his belongings at the end and she stood staring, like she wanted to say something. Kurt remained silent.

"Kurt," she said, finally. "Kurt, you can't ignore me forever."

"Watch me," he said, turning around and looking for the correct gate. She ran after him, pink wheelie case behind her.

"Kurt, surely you can see that I have a point—"

"You left him a voice message, Rachel. A really offensive, really horrible voice message," he pointed out. "You really upset him." He continued on down the airport, eyes dropping down to his phone again. There was still no reply.

"Kurt, he's a prostitute—"

"Yes, I'm aware," was all he said. "Just drop it, Rachel. We need to get going and I'm not in the mood."

Finally, she stopped talking and followed him.

* * *

Kurt sat on the couch in their apartment, dialling Blaine's number over and over. He had sent several texts and still there was no reply and he was starting to get worried. Rachel had gone over to Brody's (surprise, surprise) and he was glad she wasn't there irritating him while he was trying to get through to Blaine. It was after 1am and he hadn't heard from Blaine since around 4pm. Something was wrong, Kurt could feel it. This felt different to the last time, the time when he had sat up all night waiting for his call. This time, he knew something really wasn't right and it shook him all the way through.

It was like all his worst nightmares coming together all at once. He'd wondered what he would do in a situation like this before. He had no address, no other way of getting in contact and he kept envisioning Blaine in horrible, drastic scenarios. He couldn't go to the police because that would mean telling them he was a prostitute.

Kurt stood up and paced back and forth a few times, wondering what he could do. He brought Rachel's number to the screen of his phone and waited until she picked up.

"Kurt?" she said, almost excitedly.

"I need your help," he confessed. "I know how you feel about him and I know you won't want to help me, but I can't get through to him, Rachel and I'm so, so scared that something terrible has happened."

"Wait, wait," Rachel said. "Slow down. What's going on?"

Kurt took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "It's Blaine," he began. "I haven't heard from him in hours, Rachel. He's not picking up and I can't stop imagining the worst."

"That's what happens when you're dating a wh—"

"Fine, don't bother, I'll figure it out," he said and went to end the call.

"Wait, Kurt!" she said quickly. "I...I'm sorry. I'll help. Just..." She trailed off and Kurt heard her sighing. "Hold on a second."

Kurt waited, trying to keep himself calm and she came back a few minutes later.

"Brody says to try a club called _Lapis Lazuli. _He says all the hookers hang out around there."

"You told him?" Kurt demanded to know.

"No, of course not," she said. "I just mentioned it in a really vague manner. I told him you landed a part in a small play in which you had to play a hooker and that you were looking for inspiration."

Kurt groaned. "That's the worst lie you have ever told," he apprised her. "But I'll try. I think I heard Blaine mention the place before. Bye."

He hung up immediately and then wrote a quick note, which he stuck to the fridge door, in case Blaine came by, before hurrying out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

It turned out that _Lapis Lazuli _was closed for the holidays and no one was around at all. It was a run down area, with trash in the streets and graffiti covering every wall, door and flat surface that wasn't the ground. Kurt's stomach churned as he imagined Blaine out there by himself at night. He pulled out his phone and tried again, but there was still no reply. He was at a loss, he had no idea what to do or where to go and what if he never saw Blaine again? What if he wound up being a nameless body that the police simply filed away as another dead prostitute. Kurt saw it on TV shows all the time. The police didn't care about the prostitutes or the drug addicts or the homeless when they were found dead. Of course the FBI usually showed up and did care, but that was on TV.

This was real life and real life was absolutely terrifying.

* * *

"Any luck?" Rachel asked when Kurt answered her call an hour later.

"No," he said, going back up to their apartment in the elevator. "I'm back home. I don't know where else to look. It's so cold out, Rachel. He'd _freeze._"

The elevator stopped and he stepped out and headed down the hall.

"Well, did he tell you where he usually goes?"

"He just said hotels, or motels or whatever. He didn't say he was working tonight." Kurt opened the door and went inside to the empty apartment. He switched on the lights and sat down on the couch, still feeling sick. "I can't really go to every hotel in the city and knock on all the doors," he said, trying for sarcasm, but failing. "God, I feel sick."

"I'm sure he's fine, Kurt," Rachel said. "He knows what he's doing. After all, he's been at this for a while, right?"

"That doesn't mean he's immortal or immune to every murderer or nutcase, Rachel!" Kurt snapped. He shut his eyes, trying to keep himself together. "God, I never even told him I love him," he realised. He laughed shakily then. "I don't think I even realised I love him until just now. What if I never see him again?"

"We'll go to the police, we'll figure it out."

"We can't go to the—"

Kurt stopped when the interference sounded in his ears. It was loud and staticky and his blood stilled and hummed in his veins.

"Someone's trying to get through," he said. "I'll call you back."

Before she could reply, Kurt ended the call and looked down at the screen of his phone. It was a text and it was from Blaine. Kurt opened it, fingers shaking and when the text appeared, he saw that it was just an address. He didn't think twice about leaving immediately.

* * *

_Are you okay? I've been searching everywhere. Please answer._

Blaine stared down at the phone through blurred vision and forced himself to compose a reply. It hurt — God, everything hurt — but for Kurt, he would try.

_Im ok, _he typed, _im sorrxy its so late but i need u the door is op en_

He dropped the phone down next to him and closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep, just for a minute. A text message came through, but he didn't see it.

_I'm coming._

* * *

Kurt stood on the sidewalk staring up at the dilapidated building. A few of the windows were boarded up and the paint was peeling off of the front door. The roof was missing a few slates and the steps leading up to the door were broken and crooked. Kurt looked down at Blaine's message, just to make sure this was the right building and sure enough, this was it. Blaine was here. _Somewhere._

Kurt climbed the steps and pushed the door open. There was no door man or security in sight, anybody could just walk inside. The elevator, it seemed, was out of service. Kurt sighed. The elevator would have gotten him upstairs faster. He started up the grimy staircase, grimacing, eyes searching out the right door; number 105a.

He stopped at the top of the staircase. It was dark, the light overhead was dim and blinking, but Kurt could see the sign on the wall. 56a-85b. He turned on his heel and headed up the next set of stairs, which was as dirty as the last, but that didn't matter. He needed to get to Blaine.

When Kurt reached the top, he saw that the sign up here had the numbers 86a-125b. This was the right floor. This floor also had a dim light, but at least it was unblinking. He made his way down the hall, eyes seeking out the correct number. He kept going. 89a, 94b, 100a...

And then he stopped. There was a woman and a man standing at the end of the hall. The woman was probably in her fifties. She was wearing an off-pink dressing gown and she had curlers in her bleach-blonde hair. The man was wearing a dark jacket and pants and she was hanging out of him, laughing maniacally. Kurt took a deep breath and kept going, only stopping when he realised that the man and woman were standing outside 105b. They both looked up at him when he stopped.

The woman's eyes raked him up and down. "You lost, honey?" she drawled, New York accent thick.

"No," he said, quickly, walking around them to get to 105a.

"Oh, you friends with the whore?" she asked, frowning.

Kurt ignored that.

"Kid next door," she explained to the guy. "Street walker," she said. "Bends over to keep his pockets full." She laughed loudly again and the guy joined in.

Kurt rolled his eyes and tapped lightly on 105a and when he did, the door slipped open easily.

"Blaine?" he called out.

There wasn't a sound. It was completely dark, a black pit, but he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Blaine," he called again. This time, there was a small groan. Kurt rushed forward. The moon slipped through the blind and sent a small, stab of light in the darkness. He found a standing lamp and slipped his fingers along the cool metal until he found the switch. He flicked it and the room filled with light.

"Blaine," he exhaled, seeing the other boy curled up on what appeared to be a pull out sofa bed. "God, Blaine," he said, bending down next to his boyfriend.

Blaine pushed himself around to face Kurt. His eyes were half lidded, face dirty, bottom lip bloody and swollen. Kurt's heart was racing in his chest.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, don't move. Just..." He trailed off, looking down Blaine's body. His clothes were torn, the arm of his sweater ripped at the seams. His sweatpants were on backwards. "God, who did this to you, baby?" he asked, reaching out to touch Blaine's cheek. He flinched at the contact.

"Kurt," he managed. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't w-want you to have to s-see this." He groaned. "It hurts so m-much," he hissed, eyes closing.

"Okay," Kurt said, trying to sound calm, but he was panicking. he had no idea what to do. "Blaine, should I call an ambulan—"

"No!" Blaine begged, eyes opening, pleading.

"Okay," Kurt repeated. "Okay, I just... You have to tell me what you need. I don't... Blaine, what happened? What can I do?"

"I just want to sleep," Blaine said, quietly, eyes closing again.

"No," Kurt said, reaching out to touch him, but he stopped, not wanting to hurt him. "Blaine, just..." He was terrified to let him sleep, terrified that he had a head injury, or something worse. "Blaine, please, stay awake. We need to clean you up. I just..." He looked around. There really wasn't much in the apartment. There was a small kitchen area behind the couch, with a small table and two chairs and off to the side, there was one door, which probably led to a bathroom.

"Blaine, do you have a bathtub or a shower?" he asked and then shook his head, because of course Blaine had to have one of those. "I mean, can you get up?"

Blaine nodded, eyes shutting quickly like he was in pain. "I made it home," he said.

Kurt reached out and steadied him as he pushed himself up. "Okay?" he asked.

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. "Dizzy," he whispered.

Kurt exhaled slowly. "Do you need...?"

Blaine shook his head. His hair was a mess. "I'm okay," he said, getting to his feet. He wobbled and Kurt moved to grip his arms. He didn't look okay. Kurt wasn't sure it was a good idea to move him any more.

"Blaine..."

"Just...shower," he choked out.

Kurt, against his better judgement, steered Blaine slowly into what he assumed to be a bathroom, but it wasn't one. It was a room, a bedroom, and it was empty, save for a small chest of drawers, a couple of boxes and an old suitcase. He didn't ask questions, he simply kept going, leading Blaine through a further door, which did turn out to be a bathroom. It was small, poky, but clean. He stopped and turned to look at Blaine, who was blinking as if he was trying to stay awake, or upright, or conscious, Kurt wasn't sure.

"Let's get these off of you," he said, trying to smile, but failing.

Blaine looked uncertain, but didn't protest when Kurt tugged his sweater carefully over his head. The gasp that escaped Kurt's lips seemed to bring Blaine back to earth.

Kurt's eyes were wide and fear-stricken as he studied Blaine's torso. He had a purplish bruise on his chest, right above his left nipple and up higher, at his throat, were several dark, angry, finger shaped bruises. Kurt swallowed hard, trying not to think about how they had to have gotten there. He tried not to look too surprised, either, but Blaine had seen the shock behind his eyes and he looked hurt, broken and afraid.

"Blaine," Kurt said, watching as Blaine took a small step backwards and stumbled. he caught him before he could fall down. "It's okay." He took Blaine's hand in his own and entwined their fingers tightly together. "It's okay," he said again.

Blaine shook his head and a single tear slid down his marked cheek. "It isn't," he squeaked. "I n-never wanted y-you to have to see this." More tears followed and they left dark tracks against his skin, which was currently sallow and sickly looking. "I shouldn't h-have c-c-called," he sobbed. "I shouldn't..."

Kurt moved forward and shushed him as he took him into the circle of his arms, careful, so as not to hurt him. "You did the right thing," he promised. "I'm so glad you called."

"I sh-shouldn't have..." Blaine said again, burying his nose in Kurt's neck. "You're so... You don't deserve..."

"Blaine," Kurt said, firmly. He pulled back a little and reached up to catch the now fast-flowing tears. "I'm here for you," he said. "Let me get you cleaned up and then we'll go to sleep, okay?"

"I c-can't sleep," Blaine said, almost desperately. "Everytime I close my eyes..." His eyes shut and he shivered visibly. "But I'm so t-tired."

Kurt's heart ached physically, which he hadn't thought was even possible. He tried his best to push away the anxiety, the fear and the need to cry out for help, and he reached out to turn the knob on the shower around and the water started spraying down into the coral coloured tub. Kurt turned back around and took a deep breath, before pushing Blaine's pants downwards.

"Kurt..."

"It's okay," Kurt assured him. "This isn't about anything other than me helping you. Don't worry."

Blaine's face was twisted with worry, but Kurt continued undressing him, keeping his eyes off of Blaine's lower body. He helped him into the tub and Blaine automatically dropped down to a seated position. Kurt rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shampoo bottle and got to his knees and started washing Blaine's hair. He tried not to stare at the pinkish red colour twirling and spinning at the drain from the mixture of suds and water and blood and dirt.

"Tilt your head back, sweetie," Kurt said, softly and when Blaine did, his eyes drifted to the bruising around his neck. It looked harsher now, from the water, and Kurt had to shake his head in an endeavour to rid his mind of the images playing inside. "Okay," he said, once he was done rinsing out all the shampoo.

Blaine was silent as he watched Kurt cleaning off his chest and his back and his arms. Kurt wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to fix whatever it was that was clearly eating him up inside, but he couldn't, didn't know how.

"Talk to me," he whispered, sitting back on his knees. "I don't know what to do," he said, and it sounded more like a plea.

Blaine shuddered as he inhaled and then exhaled and only then did he turn his head, forehead wrinkling in pain, and met Kurt's eyes. "I need to do...th-this part on my own," he told him.

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding. "I don't..."

"It's..." He dropped his head. "I... From p-prepping and..."

Kurt nodded slowly, understanding now. "Are you sure...?" he asked. "If you need me to... Blaine..."

"There's clothes through there," he said, lifting an arm to point behind Kurt. "Just... I just need five minutes."

Kurt nodded and got to his feet. "Can I borrow a shirt?" he asked, holding out his damp sleeve.

"Yeah," Blaine said, looking up again. "Anything you n-need."

Kurt stood for another moment, then sighed and bent to kiss the top of Blaine's wet head. "Shout if you need anything."

Blaine only nodded and Kurt left him to do the rest. Back in the other room, Kurt opened the top drawer in the chest. He found a few pairs of socks and underwear and one old sneaker. He grabbed a pair of underwear and then closed the drawer, before opening the next one. Blaine didn't own a lot of clothes, Kurt had known that already, and despite his efforts to try and allow him to take Blaine shopping, he wouldn't ever let him, so it was easy enough to find a shirt and bottoms for Blaine and then a shirt for himself. He quickly changed and then went back to the bathroom door. He rapped gently on it, before calling out to his boyfriend.

"Can I come in?"

There was a few splashing sounds and then Blaine called back that he could. He walked in, holding the clothes and found Blaine standing, a towel wrapped around his body. Kurt smiled.

"You're shivering," he said.

Blaine tried to shrug, but ended up stumbling a little. Kurt caught a hold of him.

"Come on, I'll help you get dressed," Kurt said, peeling the towel off of his body. Blaine was pulling back again. "You don't need to be embarrassed," Kurt told him. "Are you dry?"

Blaine nodded, eyes still on his feet. Kurt helped him redress and then stopped and looked at him. He looked a little better, cleaner, for one. The swelling of his lower lip had gone down, but the bruises covering him were still alarming.

"I'm staying the night if that wasn't obvious," Kurt said.

"You don't have t-to," Blaine said, teeth chattering. "I never wanted you to see h-here."

Kurt frowned and tilted his head. "Blaine," he said. "I'm not judging you. Nothing about tonight has changed how I feel about you." If anything, it made him want to hold him tighter, to keep him safe from every harmful thing in the world. "Come on," he said, "let's go to bed. We don't have to sleep yet if you don't want." He added that last part, because Blaine eyes had gone a little wide at the mention of sleep.

"I feel so...so w-weak," Blaine confessed.

"You," Kurt said, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of Blaine's shoulders, "are the strongest person I know."

He bent and kissed his lips softly, before taking his hand and leading him back outside to the pullout bed.

* * *

Minutes later, they were in the dark, beneath the thin blanket on the sofa bed. Kurt was running his fingers through Blaine's damp curls and humming softly. Blaine's eyes were open, just watching him. Kurt wasn't even sure what song he was humming any more, he wasn't sure that it was even a song, but the thick, deafening silence had been alarming in his ears and he needed to fill up the silence, needed to fill it for both of them. Finally, he stopped, because the roof of his mouth had started to go numb. He smiled in the dark, wondering if Blaine could even see him at this angle.

"You don't belong here," Blaine whispered.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Here," Blaine repeated. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Blaine," Kurt said. "You needed me."

"I've been through w-worse," he said faster now, like he was on the verge of panic, losing air. "I s-shouldn't have made you c-come. I knew it was a-a b-bad idea."

Kurt moved closer and tried to hold onto him, but he was moving too quickly. He shot back a little and hugged his arms around himself protectively.

"Blaine," Kurt pleaded. "Come on, come here."

"I needed you," he said. "But I sh-shouldn't have m-made you come."

Kurt stood up and hit the light on again and when he turned back around, he saw Blaine, curled in on himself, eyes wide, body shaking. He dropped down to his knees on the bed and reached out to touch Blaine's quivering hand. Blaine didn't jr away this time, but he looked like the touch had burnt him.

"Please don't," he begged.

"Don't what, baby?" Kurt asked, voice breaking.

"T-touch me," he whispered, almost frantically. "If you touch me..."

"What?" Kurt asked. "What'll happen?"

Blaine closed his eyes and muttered something, his cheeks wet from the tears which had started trickling from the corners of his bloodshot eyes.

"Blaine," Kurt said. "Blaine, come here."

He opened his arms for him, which only made him move further away. Kurt followed.

"Blaine," he said again. "Just tell me what to do."

Kurt was on the verge of breaking down and that was the last thing he wanted when he was supposed to offering support. Blaine curled his knees up and covered his face as he started to rock, breathing heavily. Kurt watched for a moment, afraid to touch in case he did something wrong, but then Blaine's body began to wrack with loud, heart stopping sobs and Kurt sprang across the bed to hold him together. This time, Blaine let him.

He held him there, trying to calm him down and wondering if his dad and Carole had been right, if this really was far too much for him to handle by himself. That didn't mean he was giving up, though. He would never give up, but it was a lot and he had no experience in this kind of thing, had no idea how to deal with a situation like this.

Blaine started to say something over and over, like a mantra, but his voice was muffled by his hands, which were still covering his face.

"What?" Kurt asked. "What did you say?"

Blaine started to say it louder this time, but it was still inaudible. Kurt reached out and pried his hands gently away and then looked right into his shining, red rimmed eyes.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, softly.

"Ineedyou," Blaine whispered. "I need you, I need you, I need you."

"I'm here," Kurt said, desperately. "I'm here, I'm right here."

Blaine started shaking his head. He looked so afraid, small tendrils of his dark hair sticking to his forehead, clothing wrinkled and twisted. His chest was risin and falling quickly, like he was gasping for breath, but he just kept repeating the same words over and over and over.

"I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you," he said, crying still. "I just...I need you."

Kurt wanted to scream, wanted to pry the words behind the words out of Blaine and help him. He had no idea what to do.

"Talk to me," Kurt begged, feeling himself breaking. Tears spilled from his own eyes, hot and heavy and fast. "I don't know what to do!" he said, not so calmly. "I'm here! I'm here, what do you need? Tell me what you need."

Suddenly, Blaine was against him, holding onto him, clinging to him. His eyes were wide, dilated, brighter than Kurt had ever seen them.

"_I need you_," Blaine said and this time, for whatever reason, Kurt understood. He knew what Blaine wanted, he could feel it, in his heart, in his mind, in every part of him. "_Please,_" Blaine whispered. "I need you."

Kurt let out a sob, but Blaine's lips were against his own, suddenly, swallowing it, keeping him together and making him fall apart all at once. Kurt relaxed back against the pillows, as Blaine continued to kiss him, his hands finding their way under the shirt and stopping where his heart was beating wildly beneath his ribs, threatening to burst from its confines.

"I need you," Blaine said for the hundredth time against Kurt's lips.

"Anything," Kurt said. He gasped then as Blaine pushed the shirt over his head and the cool air hit his bare skin.

Kurt took a deep breath and caught the bottom of Blaine's shirt, then pushed it away, so that their bare chests were pressed close.

"We sh-shouldn't," Blaine said, but made no moves to break contact.

"Anything," Kurt said again and this time, it was like a promise.

Blaine whimpered and moved closer and Kurt felt him hard against his thigh. It made him feel better that Blaine was hard, too, because he had felt himself getting hard and had felt horrible that he would pick such a moment to be turned on. It was in that split second that Kurt made the decision, a decision that he had been rocking on the edge of for the past few minutes, since Blaine had said those words with such passion, such fervency. _I need you._

"Do you have...?" Kurt asked and Blaine nodded without him even needing to finish that sentence. He watched as Blaine struggled to his feet, wobbling and then finding his balance. He moved across the room and on the way back, he turned out the light, before climbing back onto the bed, body still shaking. He pressed two items into Kurt's hand, before catching his lips in a bruising kiss, which had to hurt, because Blaine's lip was still swollen, still red and cut.

"We don't have to..." Blaine choked out, but Kurt only shook his head.

"You need me, right?" Kurt asked, pulling back to meet Blaine's eyes.

_Please don't say no, please don't say no._

Blaine nodded. Kurt smiled and reached down to push his pants down his legs. His eyes never left Blaine's.

"I need you, too," he whispered and he pulled him down for another kiss.

* * *

Kurt's eyes were closed as his fingers worked in and out of Blaine, where he was already stretched and sensitive. His lips were pressed into the clammy crevice of his bruised neck, just kissing, gently, slowly, breaths coming in short, loud pants. Blaine's right ear was pressed against the pillow, his body shaking but pliant, where he lay on his stomach, hips tilted so that Kurt had enough access to open him up properly. Kurt felt as if he wasn't inside his own body, like he was watching himself and Blaine from the other side of other room, perhaps even from another planet. His blood hummed and sang warmly in his veins and he felt as if he could hear it and it was harmonising with the incessant, unsteady hammer of his heart, where his chest was pressed against Blaine's back.

Kurt added another finger, so afraid of hurting Blaine, but he seemed to be able to take it. Kurt had never been this close to anyone. He hadn't envisioned he and Blaine reaching this point for a while, but now that it was here, he wouldn't go back on it, he had never wanted someone so badly in all his life.

Blaine let out a choking sound and Kurt kissed the curve of his jaw, before pulling back, removing his fingers entirely. Blaine twisted his neck around and Kurt could tell he regretted doing it, because he dropped it in pain, a hiss escaping his lips.

"Hold on," Kurt said, peeling the foil pack back. He rolled the condom on, hoping to God that he was doing it right, and then coated his cock with the lube Blaine had handed him. He took a deep breath and then dropped back down to kiss Blaine's cheek. "Okay?" he asked, because he needed to know, needed to make sure.

"_Please_," Blaine exhaled.

Kurt kissed him again and reached a hand down between them to guide himself inside. Blaine had been stretched a little from earlier, from whoever he had been with earlier that day, and Kurt had done a thorough job in stretching him, too, yet, somehow, he still felt impossibly tight as Kurt pushed gently (as gently as he could) inside.

"Okay?" he asked again, needing reassurance.

"Don't stop," Blaine begged, hand curling around the corner of the pillow.

Kurt nodded, despite Blaine not being able to see him and pressed the rest of the way inside, eyes closing when Blaine clenched around him. Blaine whispered a broken plea and Kurt hesitated, then pulled his hips back and pushed back inside. He wasn't going to last long. This was different to his own hand, different to how it had felt when he and Blaine had gotten off together days previously. He continued the same motion over and over until they found a slow, but satisfying rhythm, always too close, but not quite close enough.

Blaine was moaning into the pillow, his eyes shut, fingers curling. Kurt was trying to keep himself from crying, or screaming, or whatever it was his body wanted to do. He felt as if he wasn't in control, like something else had taken over and he, who had little to no knowledge about this kind of thing, was simply watching as some unknown entity overtook his body and made him move in ways he hadn't even been aware he could move.

Blaine's right hand slipped down his body and Kurt followed it with his own hand. Blaine made a sound and Kurt hushed him and wrapped his fingers around Blaine's erection. He closed his eyes, wondering how he hadn't come yet. He was inside Blaine and he had his hand on Blaine's cock and Blaine was making small, short whimpering sounds beneath him, yet he still hadn't come.

He remembered Blaine's words then.

_They don't...when I'm with..._them_. They don't care about me...you know, getting off. They never..._

"I want you to...first," Kurt said, out loud.

Blaine let out a shaky breath and turned his head slowly. Kurt gave him a nod and a smile, before closing his eyes again, as he pressed back inside Blaine's tight heat.

"Come on, baby," Kurt managed, tightening his grip on Blaine's cock. "I've got you."

"Kurt..." Blaine murmured, thrusting into Kurt's hand.

"It's okay," Kurt swore, moving his hips faster, to match the movements of his hand.

"Kurt," Blaine cried out again and Kurt quickened the pace further and then with a final moan, Blaine came, spilling over Kurt's fist.

Kurt's hips stuttered forward as he felt Blaine's clenching around him and he came, his face pressed into Blaine's neck. He rolled off of him, wary of Blaine's bruised body and then lay there, wondering if he would ever get his hearing back again. He didn't move until his breathing had slowed and his heart had retreated back to an almost steady rhythm. At that point, he sat up, removed the condom, tied it off and wrapped it in a piece of tissue to dispose of later. He stood up, rocked a little on his feet, and then went to the bathroom to grab a towel. He came back and cleaned Blaine off, before climbing under the covers with him.

Blaine lay still, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, lethargically. Kurt watched for a while and then moved forward, leaning on his elbow.

"Hey," he whispered.

Blaine turned his head to look at him.

"You can go to sleep," Kurt said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blaine's face twisted, lips going into a straight line, like he was trying not to cry. Kurt bent and kissed them once.

"It's going to be okay," he promised, knowing he probably shouldn't, because he didn't know that it would be, he just vowed that he would try his hardest to make it okay. "You'll see, you'll wake up in the morning and it'll all be okay."

"What if it isn't?" Blaine whispered, breaking his silence.

"Then we'll deal with it," Kurt replied, wrapping his arms around Blaine's body. "We'll deal with it and we'll keep dealing with it until it is okay."

Blaine nodded and another tear escaped his eye. "I'm sorry," he said in a hushed tone.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Kurt answered. "Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning."

Blaine nodded and curled into Kurt's embrace.

"Wake me if you need me," Kurt added, kissing the tip of Blaine's nose. Blaine nodded and slipped his arms around Kurt's waist. "Promise?"

He held on tighter, like there was a risk of Kurt disappearing if he didn't hold on. "I promise."

* * *

**Alright, so I know some people don't take too kindly to bottom!Blaine, but this scene has been in my head since probably the very beginning and can you see how this is how it had to be? I promise you some bottom!Kurt in the future and a lot less sad, emotional smut, too. But yes, thanks for reading, I'll update soon, let me know what you think? :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi, hello, I'm still alive. I know I say this every time I update, but I'm so so sorry for the delay. I'm done with exams now and I'm free for the summer, so updates for everything will be more frequent. I own nothing etc. This chapter has some Blaine x other men at the beginning and then some Klaine smut and a lot of hurt/comfort. Thank you to Denise hearteyesanderson for lending me her Spanish skills for Antonio. This is a long one, I hope you like it :)**

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

Calloused, rough, scraping hands were on his hips, in his hair, gripping so tightly that he thought he might pass out from the sheer force of it all. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, tried to keep himself upright and strong, but he had an inkling that he'd been drugged. The world was spinning and his knees were buckling and the voices in his ear were echoing and far away, despite the hot breath against his neck.

Drinking the water he'd been offered when he had entered room 34 of the Traveller's Home Two-Star Motel had been a bad decision, clearly, but his mouth had been dry and his throat, raw, from what he'd done less than thirty minutes earlier in the side lane of a run-down bar in the city. He'd taken the glass and gone inside the bathroom to get himself ready and then he'd spent a long time staring at himself in the mirror, wondering how he had gotten to this stage in his life. His eyes had dark circles under them and there was a dirty thumb print on his cheek, near the left corner of his mouth. His hair was sticking up and his vision was getting a little blurry.

At the hoarse shout of one of the men outside, Blaine opened the door and stumbled back into the little room, feeling dizzy.

"I don't feel so good," he said and his voice sounded apart from him.

He heard coarse laughter and then there were hands on him, pulling him and tugging him and he tried to fight it, but it was no use, their grips were far too strong for him while he was in this state.

"Don't," he begged. "I don't think I c-can—"

He heard a ripping sound and then the material of his sweater was being dragged over his head at the same time that his pants were pushed down and out of the way.

"Don't fight and you won't get hurt."

The words echoed in his ears and he realised he was thrashing about, trying to get himself free.

"Don't," he managed, but the only response to that was another chorus of harsh laughter.

"I said don't fight," the voice said again, rougher this time and the impact against Blaine's face sent him plummeting backwards, but he landed on something soft; the bed.

Before he could attempt to push himself up, lip throbbing, two sets of hands were on him again and he was being forced onto his knees, hands on the rusted bars of the headboard. He felt the hot, heavy press of latex against his lips and he shook his head, refusing to open, but at the same time, the other man thrust himself inside of him from behind and Blaine's mouth opened in a cry and the condom covered cock was shoved inside.

He tried to get away, tried to resist, tried to spit and splutter and just _make it stop, _but his body was failing him, ignoring his every protest and just taking it, like he had trained himself to do. He wasn't sure what made this so different, but looking back on it, it had been the drug, whatever they'd forced into his system.

The fingers in his hair were pulling brutally and the hands on his hips were pressing so hard that he knew, even in his state, that he would be bruised later. The man in front of him was pushing himself in and out of Blaine's mouth too quickly and too forcefully and Blaine's teeth ached and his throat tasted like copper and latex. It wasn't long before the cock was being pushed further inside, making him gag and gasp for air.

"Relax," he heard.

The cock stilled where it was too far down his throat and the hands left his hair and found their way around his neck where they squeezed and he felt the hot well of tears in his eyes as he tried with everything he had to get away, to get his breath back and then when he felt as if it was all too much, all too far away, the pressure around his throat was relieved and he dropped his head, panting heavily. The thrusting inside him from behind didn't stop, however, and the burn was slow, but extremely painful and the hands on his hips were still far too hard, rigid, dirty finger nails pressing half-moon shaped indentations into his skin.

A minute or so later, his lips were being prodded apart again and he made a sound, begging the guy not to do this, but it was no use. He tried to bite down, desperate now. He heard a loud hiss of pain and then he was being punched in the face.

"Filthy. Little. Whore," the man said with each hit.

The words were like a far away ringing sound and then the cock was in his mouth again, too far down, and the hands returned to his throat and this time, he saw a bright blur of light and then everything went frighteningly dark.

Blaine blinked himself awake, his mind dizzy and aching. There was a painful throbbing in his neck area and his throat ached as he gasped for air. The world came into view like something out of a movie, his vision almost rippling back to normality and when he could see, he wanted to go back to sleep again.

The two men were looking down over him and whispering loudly to each other. Blaine couldn't hear what they were saying. His mind reeled and his back ached and he just wanted to go home. He was becoming lucid enough to know that the drug had to have been wearing off. At this point, money was the furthest thing from his mind, he just wanted to push himself up, get dressed and get out of there. However, when he tried to move, his body failed and it was frustrating.

"What'll we do with him?" the smaller one asked and this time, Blaine could hear him perfectly, despite the faint, distant echo of his words.

"Will you stop talking and let me think?" the other one growled.

"I think he's waking up." Pause. "He looks fine now, Barry. I say we go for round three."

_Round three?_ Blaine wondered. He hadn't remembered a round two.

"Oh, that looks fine to you, Eugene?" Barry asked. "Maybe if you hadn't tried to choke him to death with your God damned dick—"

"I didn't try to choke him," Eugene replied, but he didn't sound very sure of himself. "He's a whore, he shoulda been able to take it."

Blaine's ears were ringing.

"Christ." Barry reached up and scratched at his grizzled hair. "He's just a kid."

"That didn't matter when you were forcing him on his hands and knees—"

"I'm not the one who almost killed him!" Barry said angrily.

"I already told you, I didn't try t—"

"Excuse me," Blaine heard himself saying.

Both men turned to look at him, blank expressions on their faces.

"D'you hear a ringing sound?" he asked.

The two men exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Ringing sound?" Eugene asked, looking worried.

How could they not hear it? It was so _loud_.

"He doesn't look so good..."

"I wonder why," Barry said, both sarcastically and impatiently. He looked around the room and then ran a hand through his greasy hair. "Pack up our stuff and tidy this place up. I'm gonna get him dressed."

Eugene disappeared, no questions asked and Blaine felt his eyes closing, despite every cell in his body screaming for him to get up and out. He felt himself being tugged upwards and his bones ached. He opened his mouth to let out a cry, but nothing came out.

"Come on, kid," Barry said, holding him upright.

"I wan' to g'home," Blaine murmured.

"Gotta get your clothes on first."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Blaine said, stomach queasy.

"Not right now," Barry said, pushing Blaine's sweater over his head. He began pulling his arms through the sleeves. "We get outside, you can get sick all you want."

"'Kay," Blaine mumbled.

Barry propped Blaine up against the headboard and bent to redress his lower half. Blaine felt his head lolling back against his will, but before he could fall all the way backwards, he was being pulled to his feet. He felt two sets of hands on him, leading him across the room and then out the door. His eyes kept slipping shut as the two men led him down the hall and out past the front desk of the motel and when they got outside, the air hit him like a smack in the face and suddenly he felt very sick and very eager to get away.

"I need to go," he insisted, but the hands on his arms were tight and too hard to break free from in his current state.

"What are we doing with him?" Eugene asked.

"I dunno," Barry replied, sounding frustrated.

"I just live over there," Blaine said, pointing in a random direction. "I can just..."

"We could just leave him here," Eugene suggested.

"And what if he goes to the cops?" Barry said.

"He's not gonna go to the cops, he's a whore," Eugene reasoned. He turned and looked at Blaine. "You won't go to the cops, right, kid?"

Blaine shook his head, or tried to. "I just want to go home," he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. His head was throbbing.

"See?" Eugene said to Barry. "He's not gonna remember what we look like."

Blaine didn't think he would ever forget what they looked like, but he didn't say anything, just concentrated on trying not to fall down.

"Come on, Barry, just leave him down. He'll be fine. We'll never even see him again."

Barry stopped walking and looked at Blaine. "Where do you live?" he enunciated, as if Blaine was a child.

"Just..." He tried to point in any direction. "I can walk," he said, hopefully. "Or I c-can call...someone."

"Someone," Barry repeated, looking unconvinced.

"My boyfriend," Blaine said, quickly. "I... He can come get me."

Barry looked across at Eugene, who nodded enthusiastically, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world.

"You won't tell anyone anything?" Barry asked Blaine.

Blaine shook his head again. "I've been th-through w-worse than th-this," he stammered. "I don't care, I j-just w-want my boy-boyfriend."

Barry seemed to think for a long time and Blaine could feel himself coming back to earth more and more with each passing minute. He was starting to panic. This was dangerous.

"Alright," Barry said, with a sigh. "Where should we leave him?"

"Here," Blaine said quickly. "I'll g-go home," he said. "I'll c-call him."

Eugene let him go and he fought not to fall to the ground. Barry, however, still had a firm grip on his left arm.

"No," Barry said. "No, we need to get him away from here. What if he goes inside and gets someone to call the cops?"

"Fine." Eugene sighed. "But can we hurry it up? It's freezing out here."

Blaine resisted the urge to cry out as he was led away yet again by the two men. They took him back into the middle of the city, which was practically empty, and left him outside a closed clothing store. He watched as they walked away, before hurrying home as fast as his feet could carry him. His head was still fuzzy and his entire body ached, but he managed to make it home and when he got there, all he wanted was Kurt. He needed Kurt.

* * *

Blaine jolted awake, those two faces still there every time he closed his eyes. He shook his head, hoping they'd go away and that was when he realised the space in the bed next to him was empty and it hadn't been some hours earlier when he had gone to sleep. Blaine sat up, but his neck ached and he fell back against his pillow with a groan.

"I'm here!" he heard from behind him and then suddenly, Kurt was there, sitting down next to him, fully dressed. "Sorry. Was I too loud? I was just going to make breakfast. I...didn't find much, but..." He shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'd rather be anyone else," Blaine said, truthfully. "God, it hurts when I talk."

"Your neck is...severely bruised," Kurt informed him. "I was going to go get some food in. I could pick something up for your bruises and cuts on the way—"

"No," Blaine said. "No, just... You can go home. I'll be okay. Just...don't worry about me. It's fine."

"Blaine—"

"Kurt, really—"

"It's not fine, Blaine," Kurt told him and he looked like he might break down crying at any moment. "It's not."

Blaine closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. He opened them again. "Okay, it's not fine, but it's not your fault, so please, just go home and I'll call you."

"I'm obviously not going to just go home and leave you here," Kurt said, matter-of-factly. "Look, this isn't easy for me either, so let's just not pretend it didn't happen, okay? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, so just...work with me. I want to help."

Blaine closed his eyes again and winced at the sharp pain in his ribs when he took too deep a breath. "Okay," he said, finally. "Just...give me time. I just need time to get myself together."

Kurt nodded quickly. "Of course," he said. "So, should I go pick up some stuff, or...?"

Blaine nodded and opened his eyes. He turned his head to meet Kurt's eyes, despite the discomfort in his throat. "I don't think I'm fully awake yet," he croaked out. "But thanks. For being here. I..." He paused, then went on, "I kind of wish that you weren't, because I never wanted you to be around...this kind of thing, but...I'm also glad. Because I..."

"Okay. Don't get upset," Kurt said, reaching out for his hand. "It'll only make the pain worse. Get some more sleep and I'll be back before you know it. Is there anything you want me to pick up?"

He spoke without thinking. "No."

"Okay," Kurt replied. He gave his hand a squeeze, then let go and stood up. He started messing with his hair, face twisted. "I look awful, I haven't even showered."

Blaine smiled weakly. "You never look awful," he told Kurt. "If you want to shower first, you can. Just turn up the heat." He didn't want to tell Kurt that he wasn't sure he could really afford the heat — sometimes he showered with cold water. "It doesn't take too long to heat up."

Kurt turned back to him. "No, it's okay," he said. He looked frustrated then, as his phone started to buzz in his pocket. "Rachel," he explained, rejecting the call. "We're not talking."

Blaine frowned. "Because of me?"

"No," Kurt said, picking up his jacket from where it was on the floor. "Because of her." He buttoned it up. "Don't worry about it," he went on. "Get some rest." He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Blaine's forehead. "I'll be right back."

Kurt was gone for about an hour. Unfortunately, that was more than enough time for Blaine to think.

* * *

Kurt pushed the door to Blaine's apartment open, pulling the plastic bags in behind him. He closed it with his hip and then placed the bags down on the small counter top. Blaine was silent, so Kurt assumed he was sleeping. He started to unpack the bags and began putting the food away and when he had done that, he went to check on his boyfriend.

It turned out that Blaine was not sleeping. Kurt found him where he had left him, in the bed, but instead of lying flat on his back as he had been earlier, he was sitting in the corner, knees curled up to his chest, his head in his hands.

"Blaine," Kurt said, softly, going to him, but Blaine flinched away. "Blaine, bab—"

"We shouldn't have done what we did," Blaine said, voice muffled.

"What?" Kurt asked, going closer. "Blaine, I—"

"_Our first time_," Blaine said, voice unsteady. "That was our first time and it happened...like _that_." He ran a hand through his hair. "I feel sick."

"No, no, please, Blaine," Kurt begged. "Please don't regret it," he said. "I don't."

Blaine looked up at him through frantic eyes. "B-but it was—"

Kurt shook his head and gripped his boyfriend's sweaty hand. "It was perfect," he told him.

"No," Blaine said, adamant. "It wasn't. It was awful a-and I never w-w-wanted it to be that w-way." He laughed suddenly, but without humour. "I wanted it to be... I was thinking ab-about it," he said. "Since we got clo-closer. I wanted to m-make it special. For you. I wanted to-to take you out and maybe g-get a hotel room and I wanted it to be di-di-different—"

"It was perfect because it was with you," Kurt cut him off. "I promise. It was perfect." He got to his knees and went closer, then reached up and caught Blaine's tears with his thumb. He smiled at him, blushing a little. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No!" Blaine shook his head quickly. "No, you never—"

"Okay," Kurt said, nodding. "Okay, I'm glad. Okay? Calm down. Get your breath."

Blaine was nodding, tears streaming down his face. Kurt was still panicking, but trying more than ever to keep himself together.

"Alright?" he asked. Blaine nodded. "Good," Kurt said, kissing Blaine's lips once. "Good," he repeated. "Come here." He pulled Blaine into his arms and held on tight, trying to show him how much he loved him. He was reluctant to say it out loud, because he didn't want Blaine to think another of their firsts was lost to a moment of pain and desperation.

"I feel so stupid," Blaine whispered, voice hoarse.

"You have no reason to feel that way," Kurt promised. He pulled back, but kept a grip on Blaine's arms. "This changes nothing. In fact, it just makes me feel closer to you. Okay?"

Blaine nodded again. "I've never felt that cl-close to anyone."

Kurt gave him a grin. "Me neither. See? This hasn't had any negative impact on us whatsoever. We're going to be stronger, better. You'll see."

Blaine was nodding, bottom lip trembling.

"But I need you to talk to me," Kurt said and before Blaine could protest, he went on, "I don't mean right this minute, but when you're ready. I want to know what happened. I want to know so that we can work at preventing it." He paused. "I want us to talk about us, too." Blaine looked alarmed, so Kurt continued, "Don't panic," he said. "We've reached another step in our relationship and we need to talk about that. But I'm not worried. I just want for us to be on the same page, okay?"

Blaine nodded, blinking slowly, tears clinging to his long lashes. "Okay," he whispered.

"You don't have to do too much talking yet," Kurt said. "I bought some food and stuff and I'm going to cook us something. I'll run you a bath and you can soak while I cook and then we'll eat and we'll go from there. Okay?"

"I'll pay you ba—"

"No, I'm eating here, too," he insisted. "Please, just accept this one thing from me. Please."

Blaine looked uncertain, but finally, he nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

Kurt beamed at him. "Okay!" he said. "I will go turn up the heat so you can have your bath. I got some bandages and some creams and balms—I'm not sure if they'll work, but I thought we could try. Do you want anything while we wait for the water to heat up?"

"Just a glass of water?" Blaine asked. "I can get it myself—"

"Stay right where you are," Kurt instructed. He was on his feet in a flash. "Today, I am at your beck and call. Just sit back and rest."

Blaine nodded and watched him go, wondering if he had gotten lucky, or Kurt had gotten unlucky.

* * *

Blaine watched in silence as Kurt used an antiseptic cream to clean his cuts and grazes. He would hiss and flinch every now and then, because it hurt, but mostly, he just watched, in awe of Kurt's strength and lack of disgust.

"I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk," Kurt said, taking an alcohol wipe to dab at Blaine's cheek. "Sorry," he whispered, eyes dropping down Blaine's body. "Um. You're gorgeous, by the way. If I haven't told you that already." He was smiling bashfully.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered. "I didn't get a really good look, but I already know you're beautiful."

Kurt lifted his eyes to Blaine's and gave him a smile. He dropped the wipes and reached for something else. "I looked up what to do for bruises and a lot of websites said ice and rest, so..." He lifted the ice pack wrapped in a tea cloth to Blaine's neck. "Tell me if it gets too much."

Blaine nodded. He waited a minute or so and then said, without moving, "There were two of them."

Kurt drew back slightly to study him, confusion on his face and then it seemed to dawn on him. He closed the space between them again and pressed the tea towel back to Blaine's neck. "I'm listening."

Blaine nodded again. "It wasn't the worst thing I've ever had to deal with it, but...it was close." He paused, looking for any kind of uncertainty on Kurt's face. There wasn't any. "I went to this motel and...I think they drugged me." He shook his head. "No, I _know _I was drugged. It was stupid. I should have known not to drink, but it was just a glass of water and my throat..."

"So, this happened to you beforehand?" Kurt enquired, meaning the neck bruising.

"No, after," Blaine told him. "But inside my throat. I mean..." He still found it difficult to give Kurt every little detail.

"I understand," Kurt said.

"Some of them like to be rough," he went on, looking down at his knees. "Both of them were, but the smaller one, the one who was...using my mouth, he was...brutal, almost. I couldn't breathe while he...had it in my mouth, but then he was pushing further and he just...stopped, too far down and his hands just—they wound round my neck and-and squeezed. I couldn't-I didn't—"

"Okay," Kurt said, touching a hand to his cheek. "Okay. You're okay. Take your time. Don't get yourself worked up."

Blaine nodded and concentrated on his breathing. He waited, then continued, "I kept begging it to stop, I just wanted it all to stop. I blacked out. I think it was only once, but they were talking about 'going for round three' and I don't remember round two." He shrugged. "I don't know what they were going to do. I think they thought I was dead and they were panicking about how to get out of it, I don't know. I just-I woke up and it was wearing off—the drug. Whatever it was. I don't know. I just...I couldn't breathe and everything hurt and it was just—_so much_. I just wanted to go home."

Suddenly, Kurt was sitting upright, eyes wide and grave. "Okay," he said. "You told them to stop." Blaine nodded.

"And they didn't."

He nodded again.

"You were drugged and you told them no and they didn't stop."

"Yeah," Blaine said, not sure where he was going with this.

"Blaine," Kurt said, solemnly. "Sweetie, that's rape."

Blaine shook his head immediately. "No, I went with them. I knew what was happening."

"You said no, Blaine. It doesn't matter whether you went into it knowingly or-or any of that. You said no and you weren't even yourself because they drugged you." Kurt was getting upset now. "That's rape, Blaine."

"It's not a big deal," Blaine said. "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying," Kurt snapped. "I'm mad. I am so, so mad. I'm furious!"

Blaine watched him, eyebrows furrowed. He was squeezing the tea towel now.

"Blaine, two disgusting men drugged you and took advantage of you and they were really, really rough with you. You're allowed to get upset, or-or angry. God, look at what they did to you." Kurt shook his head. "We have to go to the cops."

"We can't—"

"Blaine, you were drugged and raped and beaten and—"

"And the same thing happens to sex workers everywhere, every single night, Kurt," Blaine said. "It happens. We know it's a risk before we get into it and there's nothing anyone can do."

Kurt groaned in frustration. "I've seen you almost every day since we started dating. I've never seen you like this. Don't tell me this isn't different. Don't tell me this happens every night. It doesn't and you have to see that. God, how can you be so calm?"

Blaine shrugged, a little bewildered. "It's nothing new."

"Nothing new...? God, how many times has this happened to you?"

Blaine dropped his gaze, ashamed.

Kurt sighed. "Look," he said, calmer now, "I understand that you think you have no right to be hurt by this, or to tell someone and take some kind of legal action, but Blaine, sweetie, this isn't something you have to just brush under the rug. This is serious and I'm going to tell you something that I don't think you know already." He reached out and took Blaine's shaking hands in his own. "You matter, Blaine."

Blaine choked back a sob and shook his head.

"You do," Kurt urged. "You're a human being and you matter. I'm begging you not to brush this aside. Please, Blaine."

Blaine closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath. "I can't," he said. "I'm not saying I won't talk to you about it, but... Kurt, I can't go to the police. I can't. They'll see right through me, they'll know."

Kurt looked frustrated still, but he nodded and lifted Blaine's hands to his lips, then kissed his knuckles. "Alright, no police," he said. "I wish you'd change your mind, but if that's how it has to be, then okay. Fine. But Blaine, I need you not to keep whatever you're feeling bottled up, because that could be dangerous. Promise me you'll tell me what you're feeling."

"I promise." Blaine said, solemnly.

"Alright," Kurt answered. He retrieved the ice pack and pressed the cool material back to Blaine's bruised neck. "I wish I could make it all go away."

Blaine didn't say anything. He felt the warmth of Kurt's kiss on the back of his neck, just under his hair. He closed his eyes and winced as another blob of cream was massaged into the skin covering his ribs.

"Alright?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded.

"How about below the waist?" Kurt enquired. "Is there anything that needs to be taken care of?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't think so," he uttered.

"I can turn away if you want to check."

"I think... I think you've seen everything," Blaine said. "No point in turning away."

Kurt gave him a smile. "Alright, fine, Romeo," he joked. "Pants off."

Blaine stood and shuffled out of his pants, trying not to make any sudden movements that might worsen his injuries. He could feel Kurt's eyes on his body, drinking him in, but it was different. Kurt wasn't looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive. Instead, he was just watching him, eyes filled with awe.

"My face is up here, pervert," Blaine joked.

Kurt looked up, blushing. "I thought I was allowed to enjoy the view now that we've reached that stage in our relationship."

Blaine looked down.

"You're still beating yourself up over that, huh?" Kurt asked, and it was more a statement than a question. "Blaine, we still have plenty more firsts to cross off our list and I told you, last night was perfect."

Blaine sighed quietly. "I just...wanted it to be different."

"Things are seldom the way we imagine them, baby," Kurt said, sofly. "Last night was better than I ever could have imagined. I know you're hurt and I know it was probably mostly uncomfortable for you, but I felt a connection. I was kind of hoping you'd felt it, too."

"I did," Blaine insisted. "I did. You... You're wonderful. You're everything. You're amazing. I just wish..." He shrugged one shoulder. "I just wish I could have been better for you."

Kurt got to his feet and went closer, then wound his arms around Blaine's neck, carefully. "You were perfect," he swore. "I can't imagine having a better first time."

"You mean that?" Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt smiled and pressed a hot kiss to his lips, which were still a little swollen. "I'll never lie to you."

Blaine nodded and accepted a second kiss. "Me neither," he promised.

"Good," Kurt said. "Now let me look at you."

He stood back and studied Blaine's body, eyes searching out any abnormalities or cuts. When he was satisfied that there weren't any, he sat down and patted the seat next to him. Blaine sat down gingerly.

"I want to talk to you about last night."

"Which part?" Blaine asked.

"All of it," Kurt provided. "But first of all, the later part. The part where we made love."

Blaine was a little stunned at that, although he supposed he shouldn't have been. "Made love," he found himself repeating.

Kurt chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that term not cool enough for you?"

"No, it's... It's just...really...nice, that's all. No one's ever..."

"No one else has made love to you, that's why," Kurt said, rolling his eyes theatrically. "I was lucky enough to be first." He sat up straight. "But all joking aside, we do need to talk about it."

Blaine nodded. "Okay."

"I hope you won't take offence by this," he began. "But if we're going to keep progressing the...intimate side of things, I need to know. For both of us." He paused, studying Blaine's face for a moment. "We used a condom last night. I... I guess what I'm asking is do you use them all the time? With...them? Do you...?" He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm trying to make this easier and I don't know how."

"It's okay," Blaine said. "I always use protection. Always. They're happy about that, too. I mean, no matter what you tell me and no matter how much your words comfort me and make me think I'm not, I'm still, in all senses of the word, a whore. And they look at me like that. So protection is a win-win for all parties."

"Okay," Kurt said. "So, me and you...?"

"I always want to keep you safe," was all Blaine said,

Kurt nodded, knowingly. "McKinley wasn't the greatest school and we didn't have a great health program, but I know that condoms aren't always 100% effective. So what about you? How do we make sure you're always safe?"

Blaine shook his head, feeling stupid. "I should have discussed this with you a long time ago, I'm so sorry," he said. "Um, there's a health centre and they test you for free, so I drop in there every month or so and I get tested and I'm clean. I've always been clean so far. I never want you to have to worry about catching anything from me."

"We're discussing this for both of us, Blaine," Kurt told him. "But I'm glad you're staying safe. I don't know what I'd do if I saw you seriously hurt. Looking at you with a busted lip is tearing my heart out."

Blaine let out a laugh then. "I'm okay," he said. "You're really...something special. You handled everything so professionally and I just... Thank you. For being here and for taking everything so well and just for...for being you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Thankfully, you won't have to find out," Kurt said, with a smirk. "What do you say we watch a movie and relax?"

"Don't you need to get home?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't start back at work until Monday," he apprised Blaine. "I told you: I am but your humble servant until you start feeling better. So tell me what you need and I will happily get it for you."

Blaine leaned across, despite the sharp pain across his ribs and kissed Kurt's lips. "Just this," he told Kurt. "That's all I'll ever need."

* * *

Six days later, Blaine still hadn't returned to work. He was still covered in bruises and cuts, but they'd faded and the pain definitely wasn't as severe, but every time Blaine tried to broach the subject, Kurt would find a reason for him to wait longer. Blaine loved having Kurt around. He loved having someone care about him and want to be near him, but Kurt was at his apartment all the time and while they hadn't done anything sexual since the night they had first had sex, Blaine hadn't gone to sleep or woken up alone once. It was nice. It was more than nice, but it was also slightly suffocating.

Of course, Blaine knew that Kurt meant well and he knew that he was just trying to take care of him and do right by him, but he didn't want for Kurt to put his life on hold to do that. At the moment, Kurt was spending every waking minute worrying about him and checking up on him and Blaine felt guilty. He wanted to talk to him, to set things straight, but he didn't want to hurt Kurt, didn't want him to think that he was ungrateful, because that just wasn't true. Sure, Kurt had taken the liberty of getting an extra key to Blaine's apartment made so that he could come and go as he pleased, but that was bearable. The problem was that Blaine wasn't entirely convinced that Kurt always wanted to be there, because why would he?

It didn't help, either, that Blaine's rent was due and when his landlord arrived to collect it, he couldn't pay him.

"You're already behind, kid," Mr Middleton said, tiredly.

"I know, Mr Middleton," Blaine replied. "It's just that I had a few days off for Thanksgiving and then I had an encounter with a couple of guys who were quick with their fists, so I couldn't go to work after that, either. I've got a boyfriend who's terrified to let me move in case I break a nail or split a hair and while I am completely crazy about him, it's frustrating and he means well, but I don't want to hurt him, so I couldn't go back to work, but—"

"Kid, stop getting crazy," Mr Middleton said, scratching his neck. He sighed and shook his head. "How soon can you have my money?"

"Um," Blaine closed his eyes and opened them again, "tomorrow. I'll get it for you by tomorrow."

"Friday," Mr Middleton said, giving him an extra day. "I can't make it here tomorrow. Wife wants tme"

"Thank you," Blaine said, quietly.

Mr Middleton said goodbye and left. Blaine sighed and fell back on the sofa. He closed his eyes and took comfort in the silence, wanting to just go to sleep and not have to worry about anything. Just as he began to drift off, his phone started buzzing loudly, surprising him. He jumped a little and answered it quickly.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"I know," Blaine said, relaxing again. "Aren't you at work?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied. "But I got the last batch of files done and I was wondering what you were up to."

"Oh," Blaine said. "I'm just resting."

He heard a shuffling sound. "Oh, good," Kurt said. "So, I was thinking about picking up some dinner after work and heading straight to your place."

Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Um, I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Kurt asked, quietly, demeanour changing.

"Nothing bad," Blaine assured him. "When do you get out for lunch today?"

"12.55," Kurt said, still too quietly.

"I'll meet you and we'll have lunch together—"

"Are you sure you should be going out? I mean, if you do anything too strenuous—"

"Kurt," Blaine said. "I'll meet you at the coffee shop, okay?"

Kurt hummed. "The one we met at," he said, but he already knew the answer.

"Yes," Blaine said anyway.

There was a moment of silence, then, "You're sure you don't just want me to come to you?"

"I'm positive," Blaine said. "Are you okay?"

There was another humming sound.

"Kurt."

"What?"

"Stop worrying, okay?" Blaine said, unable to resist smiling. "Okay?" he repeated when Kurt said nothing in response.

"Mm," Kurt said.

"What is it?"

"I'd rather you stayed home and let me come to you."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. "I'll see you after 1 at the coffee shop, Kurt," he said. "Have a good rest of the morning."

And then he ended the call.

* * *

Kurt saw Blaine through the window of the coffee shop. He was in the far right corner, his back to Kurt, so he couldn't gage how he was feeling from the look on his face. Kurt's stomach did a swoop—it usually did when he saw Blaine—but today, it was a worrisome swoop, because he didn't know what was coming and it made him nervous. He scurried inside and made his way down the shop, excusing himself when he almost knocked a cup to the floor. Finally, he slid into the seat facing Blaine, who smiled and pushed a cup across the table and then a brown paper bag.

"Hi," Blaine said, still smiling. "Bagel," he explained.

"Hey," Kurt said quietly. "Thanks." He curled his fingers around the warm sleeve of the cup, if only to gain comfort in the heat.

"You're quiet," Blaine told him.

"You're being mysterious."

Blaine let out a quiet laugh. "No, I'm not," he said. "Why is meeting you for lunch mysterious?"

Kurt didn't answer that.

"You should eat something," Blaine told him.

"I'll eat when my stomach stops feeling sick."

Blaine twisted his face in confusion.

"Just tell me what's going on, Blaine," Kurt said, impatiently, but mostly anxiously.

Blaine studied him for a moment and then reached across the table to cover Kurt's hand with his own. "You mean the world to me," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

Horror passed over Kurt's face. "Oh, my God, you are breaking up with me!"

Blaine's eyes went wide and he chased Kurt's hand with his. "No!" he exclaimed. "No, Kurt, I may be stupid, but I'm not insane." Kurt still didn't look convinced and he was sitting back, out of Blaine's reach. "Can you calm down and come back here?"

Kurt swallowed visibly and slowly, moved himself forward again. Blaine resumed the position of his hand over Kurt's.

"Okay," he said. "You mean the world to me," he said again. "This past week—I don't know what I would have done without you. You're incredible. You've been amazing, so so amazing, Kurt and I've never been more grateful to have anyone or anything in my life, ever."

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?" Kurt asked, voice strained.

"Well, because there is," Blaine admitted. "But it's not about me questioning us, or wanting more, or-or whatever it is you're thinking it is. It isn't any of that."

Kurt leaned closer. "Then what is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

* * *

Blaine had gone over this conversation a hundred times in his mind. He'd had the words then, but now, he had no idea how to voice them without sounding ungrateful and rude. He took a deep breath and then said it.

"I need you to stop putting your life on hold for me," he said. "I need you to be able to live your life without always worrying that I'm going to be alone, or that I can't feed myself or go to the bathroom on my own. I need you to go back to sleeping in your own bed—not all the time," he added quickly. "I love having you in my bed, I love having you around, I just... Kurt, I want you to have a life that doesn't revolve around me and that doesn't revolve around worrying about what I'm doing. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Kurt nodded, blue eyes wide and alarming. "Yes," he said, sounding breathless. "I have become the clingy boyfriend."

Blaine couldn't help the splutter of laughter which escaped his throat, despite the fact that Kurt looked entirely serious and horrified.

"No, you haven't," Blaine assured him, still laughing. "I'm not complaining about needing space, Kurt. I just want for us to go back to how we were before the whole..."

"Rape," Kurt said, jaw set. That was another thing, Kurt had taken to reminding him that it had been a rape every time he neglected to refer to it as one. "You know that's what it was, don't you? You were raped and now you want me to go back to not worrying that that's going to happen to you again."

"Kurt—"

Kurt sat back again, taking his hand from beneath Blaine's. "You don't get to push me away because you're afraid, Blaine."

_I'm not afraid, _he wanted to say, but he couldn't, because that wasn't quite true.

"I just want you to stop worrying," Blaine apprised him. "I just don't want you to think you need to be with me 24/7. And that doesn't mean I don't want you with me, it means—"

"I know what it means," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. He stood up and pulled his coat across his chest. He sighed, leaned down and pressed a small kiss to Blaine's temple and then stood up straight again. "Call me when you feel like you've had enough time away from me."

"Kurt," Blaine said getting to his feet. "Kurt, come on—"

"Just leave it, Blaine."

Kurt moved swiftly through the other tables, Blaine following as quickly as he could, despite the fact that his ribs still ached and his side still felt as if someone was rubbing salt into the wound. Kurt was too fast for him and he couldn't keep up, but he needed to talk to him, needed to make him see what he was getting at.

"Kurt!" Blaine shouted, breathlessly, clutching his side.

He looked up to see Kurt moving faster through the crowded streets and eventually he disappeared from view. Blaine sighed and moved in closer to the wall to catch his breath and when he did, he started the short walk home.

* * *

Blaine had just gotten out of the shower, towel around his waist when he heard a tapping sound on the front door. He paused for a moment, wondering who it might be. It was unlikely that it was Kurt, since Kurt was mad and Blaine hadn't heard from him since earlier that day. Mr Middleton had said he wasn't coming back for another couple of days. There really wasn't anyone else it could be.

Blaine tightened the towel and opened the door slowly and only so that he could peek through the crack to see who was there.

"Blaine?"

Blaine blinked and then opened the door the rest of the way. "Kurt," he breathed out, as Kurt came inside. He closed the door. "I wasn't expecting you. Sorry, I'll just..." He gestured down at his body and when Kurt's eyes travelled down his chest, he felt his cheeks burning.

"It's okay," Kurt said, then he blushed, too. "I mean—what I meant to say was that I'm only going to stay for a minute or two. Then you can get back to whatever..."

Blaine nodded slowly. "You can stay as long as you need."

Kurt looked around quickly. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, sit down, I'll just get some clothes."

Kurt nodded and went to sit on the sofa while Blaine went to change. He came back a moment later, dressed, hands above his head as he ran a towel through his wet curls. "Did you want something?" Blaine asked and when Kurt looked a little taken aback, he added, "I didn't mean... I just meant, you know, coffee, water, something to eat?"

"Oh!" Kurt said, realising. "No, no. I'm fine, I just wanted to talk."

Blaine nodded and sat down next to him on the sofa. "Okay," he said. "I'm all ears." He gave him a wobbly smile, which Kurt returned.

"You were right," Kurt told him.

"I was? What about?"

"Me being a little crazy."

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to say it," Kurt told him. "Blaine, I got a freaking key made without asking. We've only been dating for a few months. I practically moved myself in. That's crazy."

Blaine shook his head. "It's not crazy. I've got your key."

"I gave it to you."

"And if I'd had a spare key, I'd have given you one. Keep the key. I just...want you to live your own life without being constantly worried that I'm not doing okay. You haven't been in your own bed in, like, a week. Rachel's probably forgotten what you look like."

Kurt's expression shifted. "I don't care what Rachel thinks, Blaine—"

"That's another thing," Blaine said. "Rachel is your best friend. So she's having trouble accepting the fact that your boyfriend sells his body, can we really look down on her for that?"

"She's said some horrible, horrible things."

"And I'm sure I've heard far worse."

"Well, I haven't and I don't want to talk to her when she's being like this." Kurt folded his arms and tightened his lips into a line.

Blaine smiled. "Okay, so Rachel is your own business, but you are allowed to go out with friends or spend a night at home by yourself. You don't need to be here running around after me all the time and that doesn't mean I don't want you here. It just is what it is. I love when you're here, but I can't shake the feeling that you'd rather be somewhere else."

Kurt was shaking his head, eyes wide. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."

"Okay," Blaine said. "But do you see what I'm getting at?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I'm sorry I snapped or panicked, or both. It just felt...too much like a break up and I'm not ready for that. I'm never going to be ready for that."

"Me neither," Blaine said. "So are we okay?"

Kurt smiled. "We're better than okay," he said.

Blaine grinned and leaned forward before pressing his lips to Kurt's. On instinct, Kurt's arms lifted and wound themselves around Blaine's neck, while Blaine's arms circled Kurt's waist. The kiss deepened and Kurt's fingers were clutching onto the collar of Blaine's shirt and he was murmuring quietly against his lips. Blaine felt himself being eased back against the cushions and then Kurt pulled back and laughed quietly, nervously.

"Once I kiss you I can't seem to stop," he said, straightening his jacket, cheeks flushed red.

"Then don't," Blaine said, sitting up.

Kurt only chuckled in response.

"Kurt," Blaine said, meaningfully. "Then don't."

Kurt was looking at him lips parted, eyes wide and searching. "I...um," he stammered and coughed.

"You what?" Blaine enquired. "Tell me why you're afraid to touch me."

Kurt sighed and looked down at his knees, shoulders slumping. "I'm not afraid to touch you." Blaine waited for him to go on and he did. "It's just that I don't want you to think that sex is going to be the biggest part of this relationship. I know you were worried about that and that you weren't exactly thrilled about how our first time went, so I wanted you to know that sex doesn't matter to me. If we only had sex every, I don't know, six months, it wouldn't matter to me, because the fact that I get to be with you is enough. I'm not afraid to touch you."

Blaine smiled. "I already know that," he said, "but if you want to...we can."

Kurt looked up and met Blaine's eyes. "Do you? Want to?"

Blaine nodded. "I'm still nervous, but we can work around that, right? And I don't want it to dominate our relationship, but I want us to have what every couple has—intimacy. It's not the same, with you. When I'm with them, it's...meaningless, cold and...terrifying, most of the time, but with you it's not like that and I should have known that. I have no reason to be afraid of what being together like that could do to us. I'm not afraid and...I hope you aren't either."

Kurt smiled then. "Of course I'm not afraid." He reached out and took Blaine's hand. "So did you want to...now?"

Blaine let out a short laugh. "We don't have to if you don't want—"

"And if I do want?"

Blaine swallowed. "Then maybe we should pull out the bed."

* * *

Kurt gasped and his eyes closed. Blaine only chuckled and gave him a peck on the lips.

"It's nice not being the one coming undone for a change," he said.

"Coming undone?" Kurt breathed out. "It feels more like I'm going to explode. God, do that again."

Blaine laughed and bent to lick over Kurt's left nipple, slowly, carefully and then quickly and Kurt's back arched as he groaned again.

"Hey," Blaine said, sliding up Kurt's body again. "Can I try something?"

Kurt's eyes were wide, pupils blown out, blue more intense than ever. "You could literally do anything to me right now and I would not complain."

Blaine nodded and looked down Kurt's chest. The skin was pale and smooth and flawless.

"You're breathtaking," he said, without thinking.

"Actually, I'm the one struggling to breathe right now, if you hadn't noticed," Kurt said. "But thank you for the compliment."

Blaine reached for the button on Kurt's pants. "Okay if I take these off?"

Kurt pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at Blaine, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Can you shed some layers, too?" he asked.

Blaine grinned. "You heard me say you're breathtaking, right? You have nothing to feel insecure about. You're incredible."

Kurt shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Even still, can you?"

Blaine nodded and pushed himself off the bed. He quickly stripped down to his underwear and resumed his position between Kurt's knees. "Satisfied?" he asked, looking up at his boyfriend.

Kurt let out a small squeak.

"You're shaking," Blaine commented.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Kurt said, attempting to joke around.

"No, I just meant, were you this nervous last time?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted. "I kind of felt possessed last time. Looking back at it, I'm amazed I was able to even look at you without giggling like a little girl."

Blaine gave him a soft smile. "Relax," he said. "It's just me."

Kurt let out a breathless laugh, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "Can we keep going?"

Blaine beamed and reached for his jacket, where the condoms were in his pocket. "Absolutely."

* * *

Kurt covered his face with a pillow and cried out. It sounded more like a cry of pain, but Blaine only chuckled where he had Kurt's cock in his mouth.

"God, Blaine," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine pulled his head back and looked up at him. "Doing okay?"

Kurt used the pillow to swat at him, where he was grinning smugly between his legs. Blaine laughed out loud.

"You are so easy to get worked up," Blaine said.

"No, you just have some major tongue skills."

"Years of practice," Blaine said, licking a long stripe up the underside of Kurt's cock. "I really am enjoying this though."

"Ew," Kurt commented.

"There is nothing 'ew' about you."

Blaine sunk his mouth down over Kurt's cock again and Kurt moaned and then covered his face again because he was embarrassed that he'd made such a horrible sound. Blaine didn't stop to comment this time, which for which Kurt was grateful, but he did chuckle silently around him, which made Kurt cry out again. Blaine ran his tongue through the slit, slowly and then used his hand to hold the base as he sucked, mouth moving quickly, rapidly.

"Blaine, I'm not gonna..."

Blaine pulled back to speak, hand still wrapped around Kurt's cock. "That's kind of the point, you know. I'm not doing this because I don't want you to come."

Kurt's cheeks flushed a shade darker where he was peeping out from behind the pillow. "I thought we were going to, you know, um, have-have sex."

"We're having sex right now, Kurt," Blaine informed him. "Sex isn't always just penetration."

Kurt threw his head back again and covered his face. "Stop laughing at me."

Blaine smiled. "You're so cute," he told him, licking along the vein on the underside of Kurt's cock again

"I don't know how you learned to be so comfortable with doing...this," Kurt said. "How can you just...?"

Blaine laughed quietly. "Oh, it's not much of a chore," he joked. "Come on, you're gorgeous. This is a novelty for me. Usually it's old men with their jeans around their ankles in a filthy bathroom cubicle or a dirty lane."

Kurt looked down at him, eyes sad. "Blaine—"

"Not now, okay?" Blaine asked. "Can we keep all of that out of the bedroom? I want it to just be us when we're like this. Just me and you."

"Of course," Kurt said. "Come up here."

Blaine looked down at Kurt's erection and then back up at Kurt. "But—"

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt urged.

"I thought you were enjoying it," Blaine said, eyes wide and confused.

"I was, but I'd enjoy it more if you were up here. With me."

Blaine took a final glance down at Kurt's crotch, then shrugged and climbed up his body. Kurt smiled and kissed the side of Blaine's mouth.

"Are you sure you don't want me to finish—"

"Blaine," Kurt said, slipping his arms around Blaine's waist. He could feel Blaine's chest rising and falling in an uneven pattern against his own. He looked conflicted.

"Kurt, let me just finish the job. I can—"

"Blaine," Kurt said again. "You are incredibly, um, sexy," he told him, trying to ignore the fast growing heat in his cheeks and up the back of his neck. "And your mouth..." He trailed off, laughing nervously. "But that's not what I want. I want more than that."

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "More?" he repeated, eyes dropping. His face had fallen, eyes filled with worry. "Do you want me to—"

Kurt laughed and lifted a hand to tilt Blaine's chin upwards so that they're eyes were level again. "I meant you, silly," he said.

"Me," Blaine echoed, quietly.

"Just you," Kurt said. "Romance," he explained. "That's what I want to give you. That's what I want for us."

There was relief on Blaine's face. "Me, too," he whispered.

Kurt grinned. "You don't have to worry about 'finishing the job', or anything else. This, when it's me and you, it isn't a job. There isn't any rush."

Blaine nodded slowly. "Okay, but are you sure I can't—"

"Blaine," Kurt said, maneuvering them until Blaine was under him. "I'm fine. In fact, you can even lay back and relax and let me take care of you."

Blaine looked alarmed. "No, you don't have to—"

Kurt pushed him back against the pillows. "Blaine," he said once again. "Let me." He slipped a hand down Blaine's body and wrapped his fingers cautiously around his half hard cock, never breaking eye contact. "Just...let me." Blaine gasped and swallowed visibly. "Okay?" Kurt asked.

Blaine gave a small inclination of his head. "Are you s-sure?"

Kurt gave him a soft smile and kissed him, open mouthed and slow and dirty. It took Blaine's breath away.

"Convinced?" Kurt asked, still smiling.

Blaine nodded. Kurt began to stroke Blaine to full hardness at a deliberate slow pace.

"You can tell me to stop whenever you want, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine managed. "We need—"

"Got it," Kurt said, reaching for the condoms.

"Do you want me to...?"

Kurt shook his head. "This is about you."

He lay back and waited as Kurt slid down his body and parted his knees more gently than anyone ever had, the words echoing in his mind both new and refreshing: _This is about you._

* * *

Kurt sat up and stretched, back arching like a cat's. His hair was sticking up, tufts pointing every which way and he had a lazy smile on his face. Blaine lay still, one arm behind his head, body still feeling a little boneless and heavy. He watched as Kurt ran a hand through his chestnut coloured hair, nose wrinkling. He turned around then and looked down at Blaine.

"What?" he asked, which made Blaine think he had felt the burn of his gaze.

"Nothing," he said, giving him a strained smile.

Kurt looked sceptical. "Something's wrong."

"No," Blaine insisted. "Nothing's wrong."

"Blaine, I'm not stupid."

Blaine sat up. "I know," he said, softly. He reached out and took Kurt's hand. "I just have something I need to tell you."

Kurt's eyes went wide, mouth forming a straight, rigid line. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he stressed. "I was going to call you, you know, right before you got here?" He made it a question. Kurt nodded. "The thing is, my landlord was here earlier today and I'm kind of behind on the rent." He dropped his gaze. "And then the past week, I haven't been going out, so I didn't have the money to pay him today. He's coming back on Friday to collect it. I told him I'd have it by then."

"Blaine, if you're working up to asking me for a loan, quit worrying. You know I'll help you out—"

"No," Blaine said quickly. "No, I don't want your money, Kurt. But I am going out tonight. And tomorrow night, too."

Kurt narrowed his eyes very slightly. "You-you can't," he said, with a shake of his head. "Blaine, you're still recovering. You're still severely bruised and your _neck—_"

"Kurt," Blaine said, firmly, taking his boyfriend's hands in his own. "I'm fine. I know you're worried about me and I'm totally grateful that you care and that you've been so amazing, but I am okay. I have to be."

"Blaine," Kurt said, looking saddened. "What if something bad happens? What if you meet someone who hurts you? You're already finding it difficult to move too much. If someone tries to hurt you, you won't even be able to get away. I feel sick just thinking about it."

Kurt looked slightly green.

"Listen to me," Blaine said, sitting up straight. "I can handle myself. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now and I've been hurt far worse than this. I'm going to be okay."

"But what if you aren't?" Kurt asked. "What if you get so severely injured that it's fatal, or-or permanent, or something equally awful?"

Blaine shook his head. "Okay, calm down," he said, softly. "You need to trust me. I am absolutely blown away by you and the way you've been handling everything. I know it's hard, but I need you to keep on handling this for me. I need you to hold on and... Just-just until..." Blaine stopped and shut his eyes for a moment, trying to envision a future in which he didn't do what he did for a living, but he couldn't, didn't know how that would ever come to be. "Just, please, hold on," he begged. He could see the cracks, could see Kurt panicking, breaking. "Please, Kurt. I need you. I don't want to have to let you go because I'm scared you can't handle it. I need you to try and to-to trust me. Trust me."

Kurt's lips parted and he let out a small sobbing sound. "Blaine, I don't ever want you to let me go!" he said, appalled.

"I know," Blaine said. "But when you get like this, I just think things would be better if we weren't together. At least for you. I don't want you to have to sit around worried sick that I won't make it home. And I just...just _need _you to keep being strong about this."

Kurt stared back at him, eyes shining. Blaine waited, heart in his mouth and he wasn't even really sure why. He needed this, needed Kurt to tell him it was okay. Finally, Kurt swallowed and squeezed Blaine's hand. He nodded, blue eyes wide and sparkling.

"Okay."

* * *

The sickly sweet scent of alcohol combined with aftershave and sweat was hot and strong. It was crowded, men of all ages and sizes and social castes everywhere, the lights dim and then too bright and there was a loud, pounding beat, the music fast and a little too techno for Kurt's taste. He grimaced as he walked around a tall man in an expensive suit who was grinning wolfishly at him.

Getting into the club hadn't been difficult at all. Kurt had paid five dollars at the door and the bouncer hadn't even looked at him. It was called _Storm_ and the decor was definitely dreary enough to comply with the name. Kurt found a stool off to the side where he had ample view of Blaine, who was standing by the bar, looking around, surveying the place. He hadn't wanted to follow him, hadn't even planned to, really, but when Blaine had left the apartment and Kurt had stayed behind after having just gotten out of the shower, he had become instantly nervous and anxious and before he knew what he was doing, he was out the door and running down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt. He had managed to maintain a good distance between himself and Blaine and luckily, Blaine hadn't spotted him. Kurt knew Blaine would be angry if he knew he was there, but he needed to be around, needed to be close by so that he knew Blaine wasn't going to walk into anything too dangerous.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Kurt turned around and saw a guy all dressed in black, holding a circular tray standing there, looking bored.

"Oh. No. Thank you," he replied.

"So, what's your deal? You're just gonna sit here and hope someone offers to buy you one?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Hardly."

"Well, I'm supposed to make sure everyone buys a drink."

"Look, can you just go away and come back later? I'm, um, waiting for someone," he lied. "When my friend gets here, we'll both order."

The guy sighed. "Whatever, dude," he said, before turning around a walking away.

Kurt sighed irritably and turned back to look at Blaine, but he wasn't there any more. He stood up quickly, eyes darting around, trying desperately to find him. He went around a couple of men who shot him angry glares, but he didn't stop to apologise, just kept walking. How could Blaine have disappeared so quickly? He sighed, frustrated, and continued on through the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled. He even considered calling him, but he thought the better of it. If Blaine knew he was there, he probably wouldn't be very happy about it. Kurt had promised he would trust him and that he would be there when he got home. He made his way to the bar and looked around, trying to act casual and collected, but it was difficult. His heart was hammering and he was filled with anxiety,

"Can I get you something, honey?"

Kurt looked up and saw a tall, thin woman with a blonde perm and heavy eye make up looking at him from across the bar. She was watching him, a barely-there eyebrow cocked.

"Oh, um," he stammered. "I'll just have a Shirley Temple. Please." At least with a drink he'd have something to do with his hands.

This time, both of her eyebrows went up and she was looking at him as if she couldn't quite believe it. He gave her a half smile to show that he was serious.

"You sure you're old enough to be here?" she asked. "I'm not carding you, but does mommy know her baby's at a sleazy gay bar this time of night?"

"My mom's dead."

Her expression changed and she mumbled something, before sliding down the bar towards another waiting patron. Kurt shook his head and then stopped, because, there, across the bar, way over the other side of the club, was Blaine. He was smiling confidently, a tall man next to him. The man looked well off. His suit was designer and he was clean shaven and looked terribly executive. He even had a suitcase in his left hand. Kurt couldn't tell from where he was standing, but he might also have been Spanish or Italian or something, because he had dark features and was a little too good looking for Kurt's liking. He was leaning on the bar with his elbow, eyes trained on Blaine.

Kurt felt sick.

* * *

"You are sure I cannot get you anything?" the man who had introduced himself as Anthony drawled in his accented English. He couldn't have been any older than thirty and was extremely charming, but Blaine knew not to trust a person on a pretty face and a false charm alone.

"No, thank you," Blaine said, matching Anthony's politeness. "So where are you from?"

"New Jersey."

Blaine smiled. "Okay, but where are you really from?"

Anthony threw his head back and laughed. "You don't believe I am true American?"

"I don't even know what being a true American means, honestly," he said, batting his eyelashes. "Hmm, Spanish?"

"Good eye," Anthony said, grinning and moving in closer. He smelled like soap. "And you? Where do you come from, Blaine?" He pronounced his name as if it were Blenn.

"I prefer to maintain an air of mystery," Blaine replied. "So, what's your story?"

Anthony shrugged a shoulder. "Single male, looking for friendship and maybe more?" He made it a question.

Blaine chuckled. "The ring on your finger says differently. Or are we playing a game?" Anthony watched him, smile still intact. "Maybe you're not Anthony in the light of the day. Maybe _Anthony _is a single male looking for friendship and maybe more. Maybe _Anthony _doesn't have a wife waiting at home, cooking a lovely dinner while she waits for her husband to get home from working overtime at the office. Maybe _Anthony _likes men."

Anthony laughed out loud again. "Maybe," he said. "Or maybe I tell you the truth."

"Ooh, are we playing twenty questions now?"

Anthony grinned. "Okay, we play." He leaned closer. "Blaine is your real name?"

Blaine nodded. "Is Anthony yours?"

This time, Anthony nodded. "Antonio, if we are revealing the truth."

Blaine smiled. "Got a second question, _Antonio_?"

Antonio looked thoughtful for a moment. "How old are you, Blaine?"

"Eighteen."

"Really?"

"Really," Blaine said. "Your age doesn't concern me. Next question."

"Don't you want to ask some question?"

Blaine shrugged. "Okay," he said. "What's your story?"

"You are really interested in my story?" Antonio looked intrigued.

"I like to know what I'm dealing with," he answered. "Plus, it breaks the monotony."

"Ah, you are usually bored with the men you meet?"

"There's the occasional exception," he said, giving the man a fake, meaningful smile. "Story?" he reminded him.

Antonio nodded and looked behind him, before looking back to Blaine. "We sit?"

Blaine smiled his approval and followed Antonio to a small booth-like seating space. The leather was peeling off of the seats and someone had pulled the stuffing out. Blaine sat down anyway and maintained his smile even when Antonio sat up close to him.

"So, your story," Blaine prompted.

"My story," Antonio repeated with a rough laugh. "I come from Barcelona in Spain."

"How long have you been here?" Blaine enquired.

"Hmm. Five years," he informed him.

"Your English is pretty good," Blaine said sweetly.

"Thank you, I take classes. Two times a week," he explained.

"So, wife?" Blaine asked.

"Fiancée," Antonio apprised him.

Blaine gave him a slow smile. "Congratulations. When's the big day?"

Antonio waved a hand. "July," he said. "I marry an American girl."

"And where is your American fiancée today?" Blaine wondered.

"Veronica is visit with her mother," he replied.

Blaine leaned in closer. "Does Veronica know her tall, dark and handsome fiancé has a tendency to pay large amounts of cash for mind blowing sex with younger men?"

Antonio laughed again. "Large amounts of cash?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked. "How large? This is not sophisticated bar."

"I did say mind blowing," Blaine pointed out. "Besides, are you saying you don't think I'm worth what I charge?"

"Oh, I am very sure you are fantastic at what you do."

"I'm sure you can afford to splash out a little." Blaine sat back and folded his arms. "If not, of course, I can just stroll back on over there. I could have my pick of hot, older men."

A large hand crept up his thigh and squeezed. He fought the urge to shudder.

"Perhaps a taste of what is to come?" he asked, grinning.

Blaine didn't budge. "A taste?" he asked, sounding bored.

Antonio's hand squeezed again and then he was closer—too close—and Blaine could feel his breath hot and stifling on his skin. He smelled like alcohol.

"Perhaps a kiss?" Antonio asked, voice lower, huskier.

Blaine smiled. "You want to test the goods before you buy?" he asked, incredulous.

"Come on, one kiss," Antonio urged.

Blaine sighed dramatically. "Alright, one kiss. Tongue's going to cost you."

Antonio laughed like he thought Blaine was joking and then he moved in and covered Blaine's lips with his own. It was too forceful, too sloppy and messy and Blaine rolled his eyes when the man hummed against his lips, before deepening the kiss, his long fingers sliding up Blaine's side.

The men he dealt with didn't often want to kiss him, at least not on the mouth. It made Blaine uncomfortable. Somehow, even compared with the sex and the nudity, kissing someone who wasn't his boyfriend felt far too intimate and although he knew it was ridiculous when he thought about the things that he did to get by, it felt more like cheating than anything else ever had.

Blaine pulled back and resisted the urge to wipe his mouth. "So, what's the verdict? Do we have a deal or do I need to go talk to someone else? Do I need to remind you that there are lots of willing participants?" he teased, knowing well and good that there was no way in hell Antonio was going to turn him down.

"I believe this," Antonio said. "Many men have been staring at you. In fact, there is guy across there who has been looking for long, long time."

Blaine looked in the direction that Antonio was pointing and his heart stilled in his chest. He sat up straight, squinted and then got to his feet.

"Hey, what is the hurry?" Antonio demanded to know, standing up, too.

"I, um, I'll be right back." He turned to look at the man. "Just...stay right here." He tried his best to compose himself. "I can show you a good time. Stay here?" he corrected.

Antonio looked sceptical, but nodded. Blaine took a step closer.

"Promise?" he asked.

A slow, wolfish smile spread over Antonio's face. "I promise, _mi cielo_."

Blaine had no idea what that meant, but he gave him a final smile, before swinging around and darting through the crowds towards the opposite side of the bar where a person who looked far too frighteningly like Kurt not be him had turned away so that his back was to Blaine. When he got closer, he saw that it was definitely Kurt and he seemed to be trying to blend in with the crowd. Blaine simply walked right up to him and took him by the arm, before leading him off to one of the darker corners. Kurt was making sounds of protest, but Blaine didn't stop.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine demanded to know once they were away from the hustle and bustle.

"I could ask you the same question," Kurt replied, jaw set.

Blaine looked at him in confusion, eyebrows knitted. "What are you talking about? I'm _working._"

Kurt folded his arms and gave him a look of disapproval. "I thought you only dealt with the undesirables."

Blaine stared. "What?" he asked, lost.

Kurt groaned in frustration. "It doesn't even matter!" he said. "It's pointless."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "But, seriously. What are you doing here? I asked you to trust me with this one thing, Kurt and you said you'd handle it. You promised me you'd handle it."

"I know."

"This is not handling it!" Blaine informed him. "Following me around and watching my every move is not handling it," he went on. "I need to work, Kurt and I can't do that if I know you're here, watching. Don't you think I already feel bad enough? With you here it makes it a hundred times worse."

"I was lurking in the shadows."

"Even he noticed you staring," Blaine told him.

Kurt let out a cruel laugh in reply. "Oh, really? I'm surprised he noticed anything with the way you were draping yourself over him. I guess you didn't notice by yourself because you were too busy sticking your tongue in his mouth."

Blaine's eyes went wide. "What are you—"

"Excuse me," a voice came from behind him.

Blaine turned to see Antonio standing there, looking from Blaine to Kurt and then back again. Blaine sighed.

"Our deal is off?" he asked Blaine.

"Um," Blaine began, but then stopped. He looked at Kurt, who was watching Antonio through narrowed, icy eyes. "I'm kind of in the middle of something. I could be a few minutes, so if you want to go talk to someone else that's okay."

Antonio looked at Kurt and Blaine could see the cogs turning behind his dark eyes. "And you are?" he asked.

Kurt raised a thin eyebrow. "I'm his boyfriend, you sleazeball."

"Kurt!" Blaine hissed.

Antonio didn't seem offended, he simply smiled. "A lucky boy," he told Kurt. "You are whore, too, yes?"

"No," Blaine said, instantly, sounding a little more defensive than had been intended. "Absolutely not."

"No," Kurt said. "But if I was, I wouldn't bother with the likes of you. From afar, that suit is very convincing, but when you get up close," he said, wrinkling his nose, "it's a blatant knock-off. Your hair is obnoxious and we both know that suitcase is either empty, or filled with blank sheets of paper and candy bar wrappers. So, no, I'm not a prostitute, but if I was you'd be of no use to me." He took a step forward and gave Antonio a daggered glare. "And he is not a whore."

Antonio's smile finally fell and he shuffled on his feet. "I will be gone," he said, giving Blaine a nod. He walked away then, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone again.

Blaine sighed. "I can't believe that just happened."

Kurt didn't say anything, he simply turned around and walked towards the exit. Blaine followed behind him. They went outside where it was chilly and vacant.

"Kurt, will you hold on?" Blaine asked.

Kurt stopped and turned around. "What do you want, Blaine?"

Blaine shook his head. "I don't get why you're so mad. You knew I was working."

Kurt looked irritated. "I didn't think you were going to be chatting up hot, Spanish guys!"

"Chatting up?" Blaine asked. "Kurt, this isn't fun for me."

"Oh, it sure looked like you were having fun when you let him touch you while his tongue was in your mouth."

Suddenly, Blaine knew exactly what was going on. "Are you _jealous_?" he asked, eyes widening.

"No," Kurt said, adamantly. "Why would I be jealous? What is there to be jealous about?"

Blaine smiled and took a step closer. "Did you think I liked letting him kiss me and touch me?" he asked.

"Well, you didn't exactly push him off or look like you were particularly disgusted."

"That's called _acting, _Kurt," Blaine said. "I can't go out there looking like they make my stomach turn or I'll never get anywhere. Do you understand that?"

"You don't have to flirt like that, or-or look so..._enamoured._"

Blaine's features softened. "Kurt, I have to be convincing. I hate it. It's exhausting. It's the hardest thing sometimes, but I have to do it. I get why you followed me, but this is part of the reason I never want you to see this part of my life. It's hard to do and it's hard to look at and I don't want it to upset you."

"I am not upset," Kurt said firmly.

"It's okay if you are," Blaine told him. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to look at you throwing yourself at another guy."

Kurt's gaze dropped and his shoulders relaxed. "I knew you had to do this," he said, "but looking at it..."

"I know," Blaine said. "I didn't want for you to ever have to see that. I wish you hadn't followed me."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Kurt looked up. "I thought maybe if I was there watching out for you I'd notice something you wouldn't. Two heads are better than one and all that. Sorry."

Blaine reached out and took his sweating hand. "I get it," he said. "Promise me you won't do it again?"

Kurt nodded. "I promise," he said. "He really isn't rich though," he went on. "I didn't make that up. He probably wouldn't pay you afterwards."

Blaine cracked a smile then. "Yeah, I guess having your eye for fashion and the latest trends would help on nights like this. I thought maybe if I could get a rich guy I wouldn't have to go out tomorrow night, too."

Kurt tugged on Blaine's hand until they were standing closer to one another. "There's a guy sitting at the bar with a Rolex. He's probably your best bet." He laughed. "It's ridiculous. I'm giving you advice on who to have sex with."

Blaine sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he said. "Are you okay now?"

Kurt nodded. "I don't like it, but I get it." He smiled. "I especially don't like it when the guys you have to wrap yourself around are complete hotties with accents and...I don't know, tans."

Blaine chuckled."You're everything I'll ever want. No one could come close."

"That's easy for you to say. Your boyfriend isn't going to have sex with a hot, muscled Casanova."

"Trust me, I'm not looking forward to it," he said. "So, what are you gonna do? Go home?"

"Do you mind if I go to your place? I'll feel better if I get to see you tonight."

"Of course not," Blaine told him. "Get a cab and text me when you're there."

"Alright," Kurt said. "Are you sure you can't call it a night and come back out tomorrow?"

"Kurt," Blaine said simply.

"Okay, okay," Kurt said, defeated. "I got it. You've gotta work. You better call me if anything happens. I refuse to leave if you're not going to call me. I can't have another night of panic and worry and of watching you struggle to walk and..." He shook his head. "You had better call me."

"Of course I will," Blaine said. "Get some sleep though. Don't sit up worrying."

"I'll try."

"Good, come here."

Kurt went closer and Blaine pressed their lips together.

"I'm sorry he called you a whore," Kurt whispered, taking Blaine's hand.

"It's not exactly a lie," Blaine said. "But thank you for defending me."

"Always," Kurt swore , then tightened his grip. "I want to just hold on so that nothing bad can ever happen to you."

Blaine smiled and gave Kurt's hand a squeeze. "Repeat after me: Everything will be okay," he told Kurt.

Kurt nodded.

"Say it," Blaine urged. "Like you believe it."

Kurt sighed. "Everything will be okay."

Blaine pulled him into a hug. "And it will be. You'll see."

* * *

It was dark and cold and quiet when Blaine twisted his key in the door later that night. The apartment was dark, apart from the splash of light streaming in through the window from the lit up billboard across the street. Blaine locked up behind him and then crept across the floor. He saw the unmoving figure beneath the blankets on his pullout bed and smiled. He knew Kurt wouldn't be asleep yet, but was pretending for his sake.

"I'll be right back," Blaine whispered, before heading into the other room so that he could get to the bathroom to shower.

* * *

In the living room, Kurt lay on his side, eyes open wide as he stared out the window at the city lights, at the blues and the pinks and the oranges and yellows, a calmness about him, stark relief soaring through his body. He could hear the fast flow of water in the bathroom. Blaine had moved quickly enough when he had entered the apartment, so Kurt doubted he was injured or hurt. His voice hadn't shaken when he had said he would be right back. Everything seemed...fine.

* * *

Blaine dried off and then pulled on some pyjama bottoms. He crept back out to the living room space, where Kurt was still laying unmoving in the bed. Blaine pulled back the covers and climbed in slowly, even though he knew Kurt wasn't sleeping. He lay down and moved up close to Kurt, following the heat of his body and the moment Blaine's arms circled Kurt's waist, Kurt turned and hugged him tight. Blaine breathed in his scent, which was mostly raspberry because he had been in Blaine's bed for so long.

"Okay?" Blaine asked, kissing Kurt's bare shoulder where his shirt had slid away.

"Mm," Kurt murmured. "How about you? Was everything...?"

Blaine pressed another hot kiss to Kurt's skin. "It was okay," he told him. "I'll spare you the details, but it was okay."

He felt Kurt's smile against his neck and he relaxed in Blaine's embrace. He yawned. Blaine smiled.

"Get some sleep," Blaine whispered, lifting his head to press a kiss to the tip of Kurt's nose.

Kurt hummed in response. "I'm glad you came to me."

Blaine wrinkled his nose. "Came to you?"

"Just now," Kurt explained. "I didn't want to push you into touching me if you didn't feel up to, you know, contact."

Blaine nodded and considered it for a second. "I think... I don't think it matters any more. I think I always want you close."

"I'm glad," Kurt told him and then yawned again.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said, voice low.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you came to me."

He heard Kurt's hum of confusion. "You came to me, silly."

"Not tonight," Blaine said. "I don't mean tonight. I mean into my life. I'm glad you came into my life."

"Oh," Kurt said. "Me, too." He tipped Blaine's chin upwards and kissed him lazily, before pulling him close again. "I wouldn't change it for the world."

For the first time, Blaine believed that was the complete and honest truth.

* * *

**Another update coming soon (as in definitely this week I swear). I hope you liked this one. Let me know what you thought? And thank you so much for the reviews x**


	6. Chapter 6

**I own nothing. I promised an update like ten years ago sigh I'm sorry, I had laptop charging issues. Anyway, here's the next one, I hope you like it :)**

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

Blaine sat up suddenly and looked around, eyes blurred. He could feel the buzzing beneath him, the faint ringing sound of Kurt's ringtone distant, but close at the same time. He looked down the couch at Kurt, who was draped over the arm, his legs tangled with Blaine's. Blaine started digging under the covers, trying to find Kurt's phone before the ringing stopped. Kurt stirred then and started mumbling in confusion.

"Your phone is ringing," Blaine said. "I think it's under us somewhere."

"Oh," Kurt said, pushing himself up and pulling the covers away.

Blaine slipped a hand down the cushions of the sofa bed and finally, got a grip on the phone. "Got it," he told Kurt, before handing it to him.

Kurt thanked him and answered it instantly. "Hello?" he said. A pause. "Oh, hi, Dad. Yeah, I couldn't find my phone. It slipped down the sofa. Yeah." He lay back against the pillow and covered himself up again. Blaine did the same. "What? Really? What about Carole and Finn? They are? No, no, that's great! That's great, Dad. I can't wait." There was another pause and then Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine. "Yeah. No, we haven't discussed it. I'll ask. Just...hold on a second."

Blaine watched as Kurt took the phone from his ear.

"So, that's my dad," Kurt told Blaine. "I mean, _obviously _that's my dad. He's coming here for Christmas and he asked... Well, _I'm_ asking. If you'll be there, that is. I mean, if you'll come over and spend Christmas with us. I'd love it if you did and you can meet my dad and it'll be fun. I promise."

Blaine parted his lips and started to speak, but stopped. Kurt's eyes were pleading with him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth like Blaine had the answer to world hunger. Blaine sighed quietly and then smiled.

"I would love to have Christmas with you and your dad," he told Kurt, whose shoulders sagged with relief, a broad smile on his lips.

Kurt brought the phone back to his ear, still grinning and said, "Dad? You there? Hi. Blaine said yes." There was yet another pause and Kurt's smile faded and he rolled his eyes. "Dad, will you stop, please? Me being at Blaine's doesn't mean anything happened. Yes. Dad, we're not stupid. I already said I would. Yes. Okay. Okay, good. I'm glad, too. Okay. I love you, too. Bye, Dad."

Kurt ended the call and rolled his eyes a second time.

"Everything okay?" Blaine asked.

"My dad thinks we're 'making stupid choices'," he replied, creating air quotes with his fingers. "I try to tell him we know what we're doing, but I think he's scared I'm going to, I don't know, get you pregnant or something." Kurt laughed quietly. "But never mind that. You're going to be with me for Christmas!" He was grinning again.

Blaine gave him a small smile. "Yeah," he said. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, you were always invited!" Kurt informed him. "Are you okay with meeting my dad? Is it too soon? Am I making crazy assumptions and pushing you into things you aren't ready for?"

Blaine wasn't sure he would ever be ready, but it was important to Kurt and if it was important to Kurt, it was important to him, too.

"I think we're at the meet the parents stage now," he told Kurt.

Kurt beamed at him. "Really? You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I mean it," Blaine assured him. "If I was on speaking terms with my parents, I would want to introduce you, too. Although, I don't think meeting my parents would be much fun for either of us."

Kurt gave him a sad smile and reached over to clasp their hands together. "You don't talk about them," he pointed out.

Blaine looked around, uncomfortably. It was a delicate topic. For years, his parents had seemed like normal, good people, who loved their kids and would do anything for them. As he got older, Blaine could see the cracks. They said things about people like Blaine, gay people, _people,_ they were just people and his parents acted as if they were monsters, a plague to society. When Blaine felt it, the 'difference', when he felt things for boys while the other boys were looking at girls, he had tried to push it away, tried to fight it, because if being gay meant disaster to his parents, how would they feel about him if he was gay? He had fought it as hard and for as long as he could, but, of course, it didn't go away. It grew and he grew with it, caught between feeling proud of who he was and feeling sick because of who his parents would think he was. Eventually, when he came out, things changed.

He stopped being the son they doted on, stopped being their little boy and then, finally, it all just stopped and he couldn't hold on a moment longer, couldn't withstand the remarks and the alien treatment, couldn't listen to the frantic whispers coming from his mom and dad's bedroom late at night as they discussed him and who he was, what he had done to them as a family and so, he had up and left and never once looked back. There was no turning back. There was no way to go but forward and even that had gone badly. Up until Kurt.

"No," Blaine said. "I don't like to think about back then," he told Kurt. "It was... It was hard and they were never there like I needed them to be and I can't help wondering what they would think if they knew what I did now." He sighed. "It was awful. They were awful, but they're still my parents and... I've never done well with disappointment and if they saw me now..."

"They would have to take a long look in the mirror and realise that you're where you are now because of them," Kurt finished for him. "You are incredible and they didn't see that. You were incredible then—I know you were—and you are incredible now. Your parents have a whole lot to answer for, Blaine and the only disappointment they should have is in themselves."

Blaine smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's just hard."

"I know, baby," Kurt said, shuffling closer and then pulling Blaine towards him, so that they were side by side. "I know you don't like to talk about it, but you can. Any time you want to. I'll always listen. But I promise you, you are not a disappointment, not to anybody. Anybody who has you in their life is so, so lucky."

"Thank you," he whispered and then silently, in his mind, _I love you._

* * *

"I've been thinking," Blaine told Kurt over the phone a week later. "What do you think I should wear next week? I don't want to make a bad impression."

Kurt smiled. "You won't," he told him.

"I don't think I have anything that is appropriate for meeting your dad."

"Babe, my dad doesn't care what you wear," Kurt said. "But if you're really worried, I can help—"

"No."

"Alright," Kurt said, sitting back. "How about this? We're shooting a kind of music video for Vogue. You know, for the website? Rachel's coming in, I'm giving her an entire makeover—she really needs one. What if I added an extra person to the list?"

While Kurt and Rachel weren't exactly back to being BFFs, things had improved. Her rude comments had become less frequent. She didn't approve of anything, but she didn't say much on the topic, which was better than nothing.

Kurt could sense Blaine's negativity even over the phone.

"No, I couldn't take advantage of—"

"Take advantage?" Kurt asked, with a small chuckle. "Blaine, you would be helping me out. _Menswear_. We've got to include menswear. I get a discount, come on, help me out."

There was silence and then, "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm saying that because it's true and because I want to give you a makeover—not because you need one! But because I think it would be fun. Say yes?"

Blaine sighed. "I don't know, Kurt. I could just go out every night this week and hopefully make enough to buy my own."

"People don't have the money for prostitutes right now, Blaine, it's almost Christmas. Take me up on my offer. I promise, we'll have a blast."

Blaine sighed again. He had been going out every night anyway, because he needed to make up the money to get Kurt a worthy Christmas gift. Sometimes, he didn't tell Kurt he was out and he felt guilty because of it, but if Kurt knew what he was doing to make up the money, Kurt would feel even guiltier, so Blaine figured it was the lesser of two evils.

"Please?" Kurt asked.

Another sigh, but this time, of defeat and then, "Okay, fine. But I don't want to keep whatever I wear. Can I do that? Can I borrow it and take it back?"

Kurt smiled, triumphantly. "So long as you don't get any suspicious stains on it, of course you can," he told him.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Blaine said and Kurt could hear him smiling.

"Not while my dad's around, no," he said, with a chuckle. "Is Friday good?"

"Friday," Blaine repeated, quietly. "Friday's kind of a...a busy night for me, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said. "I guess that means Saturday is out."

Blaine made a small sound of affirmation.

"Tomorrow?" Kurt offered. "It needs to be after closing hours because I haven't told Isabelle about it yet."

"Is this a good idea?" Blaine asked, sounding uncertain.

"Trust me," Kurt said. "I know what I'm doing."

"Okay," Blaine replied, not sounding entirely convinced. "I'll call you tonight? It might be late."

"No, call me," Kurt said. "And..." He trailed off, contemplating whether or not he should say what he was thinking.

"And?" Blaine prompted.

"And you should text me and let me know where you are," he answered. "You know, when you get to the-the hotel, or wherever."

"Text you," Blaine repeated.

"Yeah," Kurt said, feeling stupid. "I mean, don't you think that's a good idea? It would be kind of like...checking in. I'd know where you were at all times, just in case anything happened." He paused, sensing Blaine's reluctance. "Blaine, you don't know what it's like for me when you're out there. I never know where you are and if you did need help, how would I get to you? We need to have some kind of-of set up. Something to keep you safe and my mind at ease."

Blaine didn't say anything and Kurt was left with his bottom lip caught between his teeth for too long. Kurt tried to be reasonable, tried not to crowd Blaine or make him feel pressured by Kurt's concern, but sometimes it was just so _hard_. He would spend sleepless nights just waiting for any kind of contact from Blaine, anything that would let him know he was okay and when he could, he stayed at Blaine's apartment so that he would be there when he returned. He always felt better when he could see Blaine, like his word wasn't enough, which was ridiculous, because he trusted Blaine, but a part of him knew that Blaine would try to protect him and sometimes, protecting him meant keeping details from him. He tried his best to be calm about it, to be strong for Blaine, to be okay with it all, but it was far from being an easy fete.

"Blaine?" he said, after a while.

"I'm here, sorry," Blaine said. "That's actually a really good idea. I hate that you're left worried while I go out. Do you think checking in with you would make you feel more relaxed about it?"

He spoke clearly and immediately, "Absolutely."

"Okay," Blaine said. "Then we'll do it. I'll text you later and I'll call you tonight."

"Alright," Kurt replied. He waited a moment and then added, "Stay safe."

* * *

**Text Message Received at 12:37a.m.  
From: Blaine.  
**_**Hey, you. I hope I didn't wake you, although I have a feeling you're still up. I'm at the Sunset Arms Motel, room 27. The guy seems kind of nervous, says he hasn't done this before, so it's nothing too crazy. Don't worry too much. Get some sleep, I'll call you in a couple of hours if you still want me to. Goodnight xx.**_

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi," Kurt said. "So, I need a favour."

Blaine sat down on the couch and waited for him to go on.

"So, I left a bunch of my ideas at home," he said. "They're in notebooks, sketch pads, that kind of thing. Rachel says she can't carry her own things and my boxes, which I don't believe for a minute, but she's being difficult and sometimes when she's being difficult it's best to give in, just for the sake of peace. Do you think you could stop by my place on your way here and help her? You don't have to if you don't want to, I'll totally understand—"

"Hey, no, of course I'll help," Blaine replied, sitting up. "I'll leave right now."

"Blaine," Kurt said, a little dreamily.

"Mmhmm?"

"You're a lifesaver," he said. "What would I do without you?"

Blaine smiled and stood up. "Trust me, if anyone's a lifesaver in this relationship, it's you." He grabbed his keys and opened the front door. "Text or call if you need anything else and don't worry. Everything will go amazingly. I know it."

"I hope so," Kurt said, sighing quietly. "Are you sure you don't mind walking with Rachel?"

Blaine didn't allow any pauses or room for uncertainty, before saying, "It's fine." Despite this, he wasn't entirely comfortable with being near Rachel, because she made him feel worse about holding Kurt back, about being with him when he could do so, so much better, but Kurt needed him and when Kurt needed him, he would be there. He would endure Rachel for Kurt.

He locked the door, before making his way down the hall. "What's her coffee order?"

"Um, a soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte."

"Wow," Blaine uttered. "That's..."

"Yeah," Kurt said, chuckling. "I'll pay you back if you're going to buy her coffee—"

"It's fine, I can afford coffee," Blaine assured his boyfriend. "Can you repeat that again?"

"Sure, a soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte."

"Soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte," Blaine said carefully, before changing the subject. "So, has everyone left the building?" He slipped out the main door and turned to walk down the street.

"Just about," Kurt said. "Come up to my office when you get here, okay? I told security you're coming."

"Great," Blaine said.

"Okay," Kurt said. "Thank you. Again."

"It's nothing," Blaine told him. "I'll see you in a little while."

* * *

Rachel opened the door to her and Kurt's apartment a few moments after Blaine rapped on it. She was wearing a short, black dress and too much eyeliner. Her hair was poker straight as far as her shoulders and then curled towards the ends. She pushed it behind her ear before giving Blaine a nod.

"Blaine," she said, voice low and characterless.

"Hi," he answered. "Um, I got you this." He held out the paper cup. She eyed it suspiciously before looking back up at Blaine. "Soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte, right?"

She nodded, before taking it from him. "Thank you." She turned around and walked inside, so Blaine followed. "I packed all of Kurt's things into that suitcase," she said, pointing at a medium sized pink and lime-green suitcase by the sofa. "Can you get that?"

Blaine nodded. "Not a problem."

"Good," she said, before slipping out the door, another suitcase behind her. "Let's go."

She locked up and Blaine followed her down the hall to the elevator, which they rode down together in a painfully awkward silence. They left the building and walked to the end of the street in more silence, until they stopped to wait for the lights to change, which was when Rachel spoke.

"Thank you," she said. "For the tea latte."

"That's okay," Blaine told her.

"And for helping me," she added. "I realise we may not have seen eye to eye in the past and I still struggle to see how on earth Kurt thinks this is a good idea, but he is my best friend and he does seem to like you a lot. So, for Kurt's sake, let's be civil."

Blaine gave her a smile. "I'd like that," he said. "Kurt would, too."

Rachel watched him and then finally, her lips twitched up into a smile. The man turned green and they crossed the road.

* * *

The harmony between the three didn't last for long, but thankfully, Kurt did manage to get Rachel singing in a dusty pink ballgown and also in a classy black and white dress while she and Kurt sang a mash-up of 'Happy Days Are Here Again' and 'Get Happy'. Blaine had been blown away by her voice (and by Kurt's, but he often heard Kurt sing) and she seemed to have taken a shine to him after he had expressed his awe at her talent, but when Kurt had tried to get Rachel and Blaine in a shot together she had refused. Kurt knew that it had more to do with her wanting to hog the limelight than her not wanting to be videoed with a prostitute, which was the apparent reason for her refusal. Kurt was furious, she was being ridiculous for no reason whatsoever.

"Rachel, stop being such a drama queen!" Kurt said, folding his arms.

Rachel huffed and folded her arms, too. "This is unacceptable."

"Then leave!" Kurt snapped.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She looked as if she was going to cry, before turning her nose up and spinning around. She exited the room dramatically, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone. Kurt sighed and sat down beside his boyfriend.

"Sorry," Blaine whispered.

Kurt looked up. "Sorry?" he asked. "Why are you apologising? It's not your fault she's being psychotic."

"I wanted this to go well for you," Blaine said, with a sigh.

"Blaine," Kurt said. "This is not your fault. Besides, I got enough footage of her. It's your turn."

Blaine shook his head. "I think maybe I'll just head home—"

"Aw, come on, baby," Kurt said, frowning. "I need some menswear shots. Besides, you look so handsome in that suit. It'd be a shame not to get footage."

Blaine gave him a weak smile. "You could do it," he suggested. "I'll play cameraman."

"No, come on, sing something for me."

"Kurt."

"Please?"

Blaine sighed. "It's been a long time."

The last time Blaine had sang had been the day he had left Ohio. Thinking about that day made him uneasy, shook him until he was unable to think straight. He shook his head and concentrated on his breathing.

Kurt stood and reached out a hand. Blaine took it without hesitation and allowed him to tug him gently across the room to a piano. Kurt sat down and Blaine slid in next to him.

"I'll play," Kurt said.

"I can play," Blaine told him before he could stop himself.

Kurt blinked at him. "I didn't know that."

Blaine shrugged. _Breathing, _he reminded himself. "It never came up."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said. "You play something for me."

Blaine hesitated, then nodded and looked down at the ivory keys. He ran his fingers across the tops very gently, but didn't press down, not yet.

"Okay," he repeated, voice shaky. "This song is from...maybe 2010? Um, I hope I can remember it right, but we sang it in the Warblers. We were going to do it for Regionals, but..." He shrugged. "Um, you're probably the only person I would sing in front of right now, because it's just...it's been so long and I don't even know if I still can sing."

"You never, ever sing? Not even in the shower?"

Kurt's eyes were sad, filled with pity. Blaine looked away because he didn't want to see pity there. Not ever. He shook his head. "There's not much to sing about. There hasn't been. Not up until recently." He gave Kurt a shy smile. "Um, this is one of my favourite songs. It's...it's silly, really, but it is. I-I hope it's okay."

* * *

Kurt watched as Blaine looked back down at the keys, eyes wide and glassy. He took a deep breath and then pressed down on a few keys. He started off nervous, stopping sometimes, but it didn't take long for him to find his stride. Kurt didn't recognise it right away, but the music was haunting and beautiful and Blaine, despite his nerves, looked right at home.

He opened his mouth and started to sing.

"_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on..."_

Kurt smiled, remembering the song. He hadn't been a huge fan, but this rendition was nothing like the fast paced original. Blaine was shaking, but he didn't stop. His voice wavered and his eyes were filled with emotion and several times, Kurt wondered if he was going to cry. When he reached the chorus, he seemed completely and utterly lost in the music, eyes closed, body moving and Kurt felt the warmth of salty tears streaking his own cheeks.

* * *

Blaine could feel himself breaking from the inside out, but at the same time, it was like flying, breaking away from everything that was and everything he had become. It was like being back at school, like being a kid again. Despite feeling as if he was apart from his own body, he was totally aware of Kurt sitting next to him, their legs pressed together.

He knew his voice was shaky, that it could have been a million times better and it was funny, because when he had been younger he had been a perfectionist. Some days he would exhaust himself trying to reach whatever level of perfection he felt it was necessary to reach. Now, it didn't matter. It had been so long and it felt like he was releasing something, like a rabble of encased butterflies had finally been set free from their confinement. It was as if he hadn't even been aware of the vault inside of himself, the one that kept him rigid and steely and still and hidden, even from himself. He closed his eyes and let it free, everything inside of him. It was like being lifted off the ground, shivers racking his entire body.

The ending was frantic, loud, broken and breathless and his voice shattered on the very last line. He stopped playing, fingers curling back, sweaty and tired and he opened his eyes slowly, the world coming back into focus. He could hear himself breathing, breaths coming fast and shallow. He twisted himself around to look at his boyfriend, heart hammering loudly beneath his rib cage and he saw the fresh tears in Kurt's eyes, the clouded blue-grey-green of his irises, the shining red swell of his parted lips.

They watched one another for a long time and then Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, nothing but a quivering breath and then Kurt was kissing him. It was sudden and he hadn't seen it coming, but he kissed him back, relaxed himself against the warmth of his body and held on tight, held on like he would break if he let go. Kurt kept him close in the circle of his arms, their lips moving slowly, short breaths in between long sighs and moans. It was intimate in a way that was not sexual and Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel and it was as if his heart was shattering and mending over and over inside his chest, but it felt right. Something about it all felt so right.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered once they had broken apart.

Kurt looked surprised and then emitted a shaky laugh. "You're just so... You're incredible and that was... _Blaine_, you're so talented."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "It was shaky."

"It was breathtaking," Kurt argued. "You're breathtaking."

Blaine reached up and wiped at his own eyes.

"You just deserve so much, Blaine," Kurt went on. "You deserve so many good things and I wish things had gone differently for you. I wish they had gone right. I just wish you could have done something with the talents that you have."

_I love you, _Blaine wanted to say, _I love you, I love you, I love you. _The words wouldn't come.

Instead, he said, "I used to be better."

"You're amazing," Kurt said. "Did you want to pursue music? When you left school? Was that the plan?"

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Definitely something to do with performing," he told him. "That dream was always too far away for me. I was a dreamer back then, when I was younger, but when people tell you your dreams are stupid and unrealistic, they tend to shatter and lose their magic. I gave up on it all a long time ago.

"When I first got here, I thought about it, about getting a job singing somewhere, but the only places hiring are bars and clubs and I'm underage. They wouldn't hire me. I have no credentials, no experience. Plus, I left my piano behind," he said, allowing his fingers to brush the keys once again. "I... It's the one thing I missed most after I left. I loved to play. I liked dabbling in my own tunes, you know? I was sort of a perfectionist," he said, cheeks colouring. "I would spend hours trying to get it right. It was... I loved it. It was the one thing I really, really loved. When things got bad, I would play. I'd sing and I'd play and it...it took the edge off sometimes. Not always, because things were really bad sometimes, but...most of the time it helped. When I got here, at the beginning? I would have given anything to have just a few minutes at a piano, or keyboard, or whatever, just to feel like me again. I don't know who I am any more, Kurt, but today, I felt like...like the old Blaine. Like someone I didn't mind being. It was...nice."

Kurt gave him a wobbly smile. "You can use our keyboard any time you want," he said. "It's in Rachel's room because she does scales every morning, but I'm going to move it and you can just play it whenever you want to play it. In fact, it would be a pleasure to watch you play." He reached out and curled their fingers together. "And as for not knowing who you are, well, I can help you with that. You're Blaine. You're kind and caring and beautiful and you always put others before yourself. You're compassionate and so unbelievably talented and you're the best boyfriend a guy like me could ever ask for.

"You've got cute little quirks that are unique, just to you. You talk in your sleep and you're always so enthusiastic about everything and you're always smiling, even when I know you're scarred on the inside. You can never get the lid of your coffee cup back on and sometimes, I almost reach out to help you, but you look so caught up in it, so deep in concentration, that I can't make myself do it. You love cookery shows, but you never cook, you just like to watch and see the finished product at the end of it all. You're a total gentleman. You always hold doors and say please and thank you and you like kids, because sometimes, if we're out together and there's a baby crying, you don't get mad or frustrated like I do, you smile and act like it doesn't even bother you."

You deal with me when I'm being difficult and you always kiss me like you mean it. When you smile, it makes me feel like my heart is going to-to just burst out of my chest and I can't help smiling, too. You've got the most expressive eyes. I've never seen eyes like yours before. I can never quite find the right words to describe them. Hazel seems too ordinary, gold seems too false. But they're incredible.

"I know they tell you sometimes, that you're gorgeous and that you're hot and that's all completely true. You are all those things, but Blaine, you've heard those words so many times that I don't think you even know how true they are. They've just become words to you, because you don't even react to them. You _are _beautiful. You are _so_, so beautiful. Everything about you. Every last hair on your head. Every last freckle on your skin. Everything about you, even the scars, they're all part of who you are. All part of what makes you Blaine. All equally and uniquely beautiful." He reached out and squeezed Blaine's hand gently. "Everything about you is perfect to me, Blaine. Everything."

Blaine let out a choked laugh that bubbled from somewhere deep within him and took Kurt's hand in both of his. "That song," he said. "Maybe it's cheesy, but... I never had anything like that. Like what they describe in the song, but...with you, it's kind of like-like I understand it more. There isn't a lot to understand, it's just a bubbly pop song, but...having you in my life makes me understand what it feels like to want to run away with another person. Does that...does it make sense?"

Kurt smiled. "Kind of."

"It's kind of like...like you're my teenage dream. Like you're the person I dreamed about having in my life when I was younger and things weren't going well." He shrugged and looked down at his knees. "It's stupid."

Kurt shook his head. "It's not stupid," he swore. "You know, all my life I've felt different, like I would never, ever meet anyone like me and I haven't, not really and my dad would tell me that was a good thing, but sometimes I was terrified that maybe it wasn't a good thing, because what if no one ever wanted to be with someone like me? I had friends, eventually, when I got into glee, but...there was never anyone that really, _really _understood. My dad tried and I was close with Mercedes and then Rachel, but there was nobody like me, nobody who got it. And when the bullying got worse, it was like I was completely alone. My friends stood up for me and so did my dad and Finn, kind of, but I never showed them how much it got to me. I never let them see that it was breaking me down and I pushed through it. I got out, but it would have helped to have had someone, or even to have had the knowledge that there was someone else out there who was going through or had gone through the same things I was. That someone would want me some day, as more than just a friend, because up until I left Ohio, nobody I ever crushed on ever even glanced in my direction.

"And then I came here and people were looking at me and it felt good, until I started dating. No matter how handsome these guys were, or how much of the same things we liked, none of them ever felt _right _and I started to think it was me. I started to wonder if maybe nobody would ever want me. And then I started to see you and it wasn't a conscious thing at first. I saw you here and there and it was kind of a 'oh, look, it's that cute guy again' thought process each time and then you were everywhere and I would find myself thinking about you throughout my day, wondering where you were, what you were doing. _Who _you were, mostly. I wanted to know you." He smiled. "I wanted you to know me. But it was almost like you were this...this _fantasy _I allowed myself to have. Like you were this figment of my imagination that would disappear if I made any moves to talk to you. It was like I was terrified that all the things I imagined you being and doing would crash and burn when reality struck. I was terrified of being disappointed."

"And were you?" Blaine asked, very quietly. "I mean, you couldn't have imagined me being any of the things that I am."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, Blaine," he said. "You're so much more than anything I could ever be capable of making up."

Blaine gave him a broken smile, head tilting sideways, tears threatening to spring free from his eyes.

"I could never be disappointed in you, Blaine," Kurt continued. "You make me happier than I ever believed I could be. It's kind of like coming here is everything I wanted and more. I've got the city, I've got the job and I've got the guy."

"And you'll have NYADA, too," Blaine added. "I know you will."

"Well, fingers crossed," Kurt said. "Those letters should be coming soon," he went on, looking down nervously.

"You're in," Blaine told him. "I know it. They're not going to let you slip away a second time."

"I hope not," Kurt replied. "And thank you for believing in me."

"Always," Blaine said. "You believe in me and that's not an easy thing to do."

"Of course it is," Kurt argued.

"It isn't," Blaine insisted. "But you do it anyway and that's what makes you special, Kurt. Do you know how many guys would have run far, far away the moment they found out what I do? It's a pretty big number. You..." He shook his head, trying to grasp the words. "I know it isn't easy and you worry and you struggle with it sometimes, even though you try to hide the fact that you're struggling from me, but you've never given up on me and that's more than anyone else has ever done. You're determined and you don't give up and that's why I know you're going to get everything you want and deserve in life." He sat up straight and tightened his grip on Kurt's hand again. "You... You move me, Kurt and some day, the whole world is going to be moved by you and, well, even though I'm not sure how high the probability of this is, I hope I'm there with you to see it."

"Blaine—"

"Let's not get into it, okay?" Blaine said, smiling. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the night."

Kurt nodded. "I want that, too, just so you know," he said. "For you to be there with me and for you to be living out your own dreams. Because I know it's been tough, but you'll get there. I know you will."

Blaine shrugged, not remotely convinced. "Maybe," he said anyway. "Do you want to stay the night with me?" he enquired, changing the subject.

Kurt nodded instantly. "I would love that," he said standing up. He reached out for Blaine's hand and pulled him to his feet. "I'll leave all this stuff until tomorrow," he said, gesturing at the cameras and dresses. "Let's just go."

Blaine nodded, seeing the glint in his eye and they walked towards the door. Kurt switched the light out, leaving them in complete darkness, but for the dim, flickering hallway light outside. Whispering quietly to one another, they took the elevator down to the ground floor, before slipping out the entrance door and making their way down the street in the direction of Blaine's apartment. However, when they reached the corner, Kurt's phone started to buzz and he pulled it out of his pocket quickly, face twisting with worry. It was late and Blaine knew he was concerned for the health of his father.

Blaine tightened the grip on his hand and watched as he opened the message, fingers fumbling. Finally, the message appeared and it was from Rachel. It was written all in capital letters.

**From Rachel:  
**_**KURT, COME HOME A.S.A.P! IT'S AN EMERGENCY! HURRY!**_

Kurt looked at Blaine, face twisting in confusion. "I need to go," he told him.

"I'm coming with you," Blaine said and when Kurt opened his mouth to protest, he went on, "Don't even bother, I'm coming. Come on."

Blaine started tugging Kurt further down the street, while Kurt tried to call Rachel.

"She's not picking up," he said, worriedly. "If it was my dad Carole would have called me, right?"

"Definitely," Blaine agreed.

"Why would Rachel know before me?"

"She wouldn't," Blaine assured him.

"Oh, God," Kurt said, then. "What if Finn told her? What if he forgot to call me? That is totally something Finn would do, I am going to kill him."

"Kurt, calm down," Blaine said, softly. "We don't even know that it has anything to do with your dad. You said Rachel is prone to overreacting, right?"

"Well, yeah," Kurt answered.

"Then don't get crazy until we know for sure," he said. "Maybe she just broke a nail or something."

"If that's all it is, I'm going to kill _her,_" he said.

Blaine smiled. "It'll be okay."

"What if it isn't?" Kurt asked, quietly. "What if something awful has happened? Oh, God, Blaine, what if—"

"Kurt."

"You shouldn't have to deal with this. I should tell you to go home, but I _need _you. I need you if it is something really awful, but you shouldn't have to deal with that—"

"Kurt," he said again. "It's okay. Trust me, I have experience with the really awful. It's okay."

A look of horror fell over Kurt's face. "Oh, my God, Blaine, I didn't mean—"

Kurt stopped talking then because Blaine stopped and silenced him with a kiss. They stood there like that, in the empty street for another few moments, just kissing beneath the light of the moon and the dim lighting of the street lamps and Blaine felt as if he could feel Kurt's fast beating heart against his body. Finally, he pulled back, knowing they needed to get going.

"Stop freaking out," he whispered against Kurt's lips. He kissed them gently, briefly. "Alright?" Kurt nodded. "We don't know what it is yet. Don't stress yourself out until we do." He kissed him once more. "I want to be here for you, no matter what. Are you ready to go?" Kurt nodded again. "Okay," Blaine said, taking a step backwards and linking his fingers with Kurt's again. "Let's go."

They continued down the street in silence, Kurt's fingers sweating against his, but he kept a tight grip on them. Finally, when they were almost there, Kurt spoke.

"Thank you," he said. "For keeping me together. I go to pieces in a crisis." He laughed heartlessly. "Clearly."

"I'm sure she would have called if it was anything serious," Blaine said, squeezing his hand again.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologise," Blaine told him. "You're entitled to worry."

"Distract me," Kurt said. "Just...tell me about...about anything. Please."

Blaine nodded and tried to think of something quickly. "Um, did I ever tell you about the time my dad and I built a car together?"

He knew he hadn't told Kurt that story, because he hadn't told Kurt very much about his past in Ohio.

"No," was all Kurt said anyway.

"He made out like it was some kind of bonding experience," Blaine told him, "but I knew it was more about him trying to turn me straight. I was probably about fifteen, so things had been...difficult. I hadn't been out for very long and..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Anyway, we spent weeks building this car and my dad would-would drop these hints about, you know, girls and stuff. Like, it was never anything crazy. He wouldn't try to tell me girls were, I don't know, hot or anything, but he'd maybe say his friend's daughter was my age, stuff like that and at the beginning, I felt like I had to constantly remind him I was gay, but after a while, it seemed kind of pointless. He wasn't listening to me and I was wasting my breath, so I gave up and one day, my brother got home—"

"You have a brother?"

Blaine blinked. "Um, yeah," he said. "I never told you that?"

Kurt shook his head.

"I guess I haven't told you very much," he said, looking down. "I'll work at that."

"It's okay, keep going."

Blaine nodded. "So, Cooper got back from L.A.—he was doing auditions out there—and he walked out while my dad and I were working on the car and my dad was hinting again and Cooper just stopped and looked at the car and then turned to me and said, 'nice work, squirt. When you get your permit and start driving this, you're going to have your pick of cute guys. And you'll have your old man to thank for having such a super great idea!' and then he just grinned and walked on. It was... It meant a lot to me. I know he was mostly kidding, but when he was around, Cooper always stood up for me when my parents were being...stubborn, I guess. He always knew exactly how to handle things."

Kurt didn't say anything for a few moments and they walked on in comfortable silence for a short while. Then, Kurt spoke.

"Do you miss him? Your brother?"

Blaine shrugged. "He was never really around. He moved out to L.A. and he only came home for holidays or birthdays, sometimes, but, in a way, I guess I kind of do miss him. There's an eight year age gap between us, so sometimes, there was kind of a disconnect. He's obnoxious and self-centred and ridiculous, but...he's my brother and-and he tried when no one else did. And that meant a lot."

Kurt gave his hand a squeeze. "You should call him."

Blaine shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "That part of my life is behind me, I just want to concentrate on the now."

Kurt didn't argue. "Of course," he said. "But if you ever want to talk..."

"I know," Blaine replied. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said. "It's probably not safe walking around here this late at night."

Blaine gave him a wobbly smile. "It's okay. I do it all the time."

"Blaine—" He stopped then because they had reached Kurt's building. "We should go up."

Blaine nodded. "It'll be okay."

Kurt let out a shaky breath and pulled the door open. The slipped inside and took the elevator up and when they got there, they walked quickly down the hall until they reached Kurt and Rachel's apartment. Kurt fumbled with his key in the lock and finally, got it open. He pushed it and he and Blaine went inside to find Rachel, a girl Blaine didn't recognise and a guy he thought looked familiar.

The girl had glossy, dark hair which fell past her shoulders and when she swung around, Blaine saw that she had dark features, too. Her eyes fell down to Kurt and Blaine's linked fingers and a slow smile crept over her face.

"Well, well, well," she said, hand on her hips. "Berry never told me you got yourself a boyfriend, Hummel."

Kurt seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation with Rachel, made up entirely of meaningful glares. Blaine took it upon himself to stick out a hand.

"I'm Blaine," he said. "Blaine Anderson."

The girl, still smiling, accepted his hand shake. "Santana Lopez," she said. "Kurt's newest roomie."

"Kurt's newest _what_?" Kurt asked quickly.

"Oh, Hummel," Santana said, blinking rapidly. "I knew you would be so happy to see me. That's why I brought you a peace offering." Her eyes flickered to Blaine. "Although, I guess now you won't have much use for it if you and the hobbit here are getting down and dirty." She went to turn around, but Kurt spoke before she could.

"Whatever weird, freaky, sex toy you have, I don't want to know," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom gave me money to go to New York," she explained. "I thought about getting a hotel, just until I could find a place and then I remembered. I thought, _oh, my good friends Hummel and Berry are out here and I bet they would just _love_ to see a familiar face in a sea of strangers in a big, crazy city_. I gotta say, this isn't the welcome I was expecting." She folded her arms slowly and the grin fell off her face and was replaced with a glare. "I mean, you even brought your _boyfriends_ to gang up on me."

Rachel took a step forward. "Kurt and I did not bring Brody and Blaine to gang up on you, Santana. Brody was already here. And Blaine-well, _Blaine_—"

"Blaine came with me because _somebody_ told me there was some _huge_ _emergency_," Kurt said, glaring at Rachel still.

Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Santana spoke over her. "Oh, come _on_. What was all that crap about _family_ and always _loving_ each other back at McKinley? If you were my _family_ and if you _loved_ me, you would have absolutely no problem with letting me stay. It's not like I'm going to infringe on your sexy times with these _clowns_—"

"Santana!" Rachel said, astonished, while Kurt just cursed under his breath.

"Santana, I think you should leave," the guy—Brody—said.

Santana's head jolted around and she looked him slowly from head to toe and back again. "Excuse me, but _who are you_?" she asked.

"I'm Rachel's..." his sentence faded and he looked to Rachel for help, which she did not provide.

"Exactly," Santana said, giving him a too-sweet smile. "You're _Rachel's_. So until _Rachel_—and, or _Kurt_—insist that I leave, _you_ should stay out of it."

"Did you just get here?" Kurt asked.

"Fresh off the airplane from lovely Lima."

Kurt sighed. "This isn't going to work out." He shook his head. "We don't have enough _space_."

"She doesn't have anywhere else to go," Blaine said, looking at his boyfriend. "You could stay with me tonight and Santana could—"

"And what happens tomorrow night? Or the night after?"

"I was just trying to help," Blaine said shrugging.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know," Kurt said, squeezing his fingers.

"She could stay with me," Blaine suggested.

All eyes went to him, then.

"Blaine—"

"I don't mind if nobody else does," Blaine said. He looked at Kurt again. "I mean, we'll have to tell her..."

"Tell me what?" she asked. She smiled again. "Don't tell me Hummel's got a boyfriend who's a secret drug runner, or—"

"Stop!" Kurt said, loudly. "Santana, just... You can stay here, okay? We'll-I'll-the spare room. I'll clear it out, but you've got to help me and you can stay there. Blaine doesn't have the space."

"I'll help, too," Blaine added.

Rachel looked panicked and turned her gaze on Brody and said, "It's getting late, I should walk Brody out. Could I stay with you tonight, _babe_?"

Kurt grimaced and so did Santana.

"Of course you can, _babe_," Brody replied and Santana made a gagging motion.

Rachel made a small squeal of joy and then leaned up and pecked him on the lips. "I'll just go and get my toothbrush." She bounced away then.

"Come on, Santana," Kurt said, sounding tired. "I'll show you the room."

Blaine stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should follow or hang back while Kurt and Santana talked privately. Brody seemed to be experiencing the same sense of awkwardness, if the way he was looking around nervously was any indication. Blaine decided to make conversation, just to fill the silence and also because he wanted to know.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Uh, I doubt it, man," Brody said, looking in the direction of Rachel's bedroom.

"You just look...really familiar," he told him.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Brody replied followed by nervous laughter, which made Blaine wonder if they did know each other from somewhere. He was attractive in a traditional way, a little like the guys in movies who seduced the girl, before turning out to be a total pig. He was attractive in a way that didn't exactly make him stand out, because it was generic, too _obvious_, not like Kurt; Kurt was a _classic _kind of beautiful, he was elegant and poised and _striking. _Brody was tanned and muscled and all angles, while Kurt was smooth curves and soft lines. Kurt was memorable, Brody wasn't and if he had been someone Blaine had...spent time with while working, he probably _wouldn't _have remembered him, so it might have been that. Still, there was something about him, something that linked to a different part of Blaine's brain, something he couldn't quite place. However, before he could ask anything more, Kurt appeared and beckoned him into the spare room and so, he went, giving Brody a nod on his way.

Once inside, Kurt shut the door firmly behind them. He sat down on the ledge of the window.

"Are you staying over?" he asked Blaine.

"You're going to send him out in New York City at _this time of night_?" Santana demanded to know. "_Alone_?"

Kurt looked frustrated. "I'm not _sending _him anywhere, Santana," he said. He looked at Blaine again and spoke, voice softer now. "You should stay."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't want to overcrowd you—"

"You wouldn't be."

"Hummel wants you in his bed," Santana sang, smirk on her face.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Stay," he said. "It's safer."

"I'll be fine out there. You know I will."

"I know, I know, but..."

There was a plea in Kurt's eyes. It was small, barely noticeable, but sharp, like a paper cut you didn't remember getting.

"I'll stay," Blaine said. "If that's okay."

"Of course it's—"

"Holy crap. This conversation is _pathetic_," Santana said, walking across the room. "Quit being mushy and help me with my crap."

She strolled out of the room to grab her bags and Blaine looked at Kurt, eyebrow raised.

"Don't ask," he said, tiredly.

Blaine couldn't tell if Kurt liked her or not, couldn't tell if she was a friend or a mere acquaintance.

"Is she...?" he tried to ask.

"She's... Well. You'll see. Let's go before she pulls out the _real_ insults."

* * *

Kurt woke up to the distant sound of something smashing followed by a groan in the dark. He sat up, heart hammering and remembered Santana was there and it was more than likely her making the noise. He looked down at Blaine next to him in the bed. He was sound asleep, lips parted, small humming sounds escaping his body rhythmically. Kurt smiled and pulled himself up carefully, trying not to wake him. He dressed and then crept out of the room and into the main part of the apartment, which was the living room space.

A dim, blinding light lit the kitchen area and a dark figure stood in the middle, bent over by the open door of the refrigerator. He could hear the quiet swear words and as he got closer, the figure darted upright. Kurt hit the lightswitch and the light bled in.

"Oh, it's _you_," Santana said, hair hanging messily around her face. She was holding parts of what had been a glass.

"Yeah, it's me," Kurt said. "I do live here."

Santana only rolled her eyes, before closing the refrigerator door and flinging the broken glass into the trash. Kurt grabbed the dustpan and brush and got to his knees to retrieve any rogue pieces. Santana watched him and then sat down at the small kitchen table, where she had left a full glass of orange juice. Kurt went to sit with her.

"So," she began, "Berry's changed."

"I guess."

"You _guess_? First of all, she looks like a slut—"  
"Santana," Kurt half-warned, only half because he was too tired to argue.

"—and who _is _that tool she's fucki—"

"Brody," Kurt said quickly. "He's called Brody."

"He looks plastic and from what I gathered today, he has a plastic, little, mouse brain underneath all that sun-kissed hair."

Kurt only shrugged, unable to find it in himself to defend the guy.

"You've changed, too, you know."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Santana," he answered sarcastically.

"Not in the same way Rachel has," she said. "I mean, you look...more sophisticated. Hmm. Happier." She smiled.

"I am happier."

"Because of him?"

Kurt shrugged again. "He's a huge part of it."

"He's a huge nothing, he's _tiny._" She smirked then. "Unless you're talking _under _the pants, in which case—"

"Everything isn't about sex, Santana."

"But you are getting some," she said and when the blush crept over his cheeks, she grinned. "Thought so. So, how'd it go? Two, sad, little, virgin gays finding one another in a huge city, yet still, in the middle of all that hustle and bustle, eyes met, before tongues and then—"

"Santana!"

"—pretty soon, they were giving each other their precious flowers—"

"That is _disgusting_—"

"But totally true, right?"

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head. "Blaine wasn't..."

Her eyes went wide with interest. "Your pretty pony's ass was already—"

"Do you have to be so—"

"Hey, I'm just asking." She held her hands up, as if in defence. "So, what's his story?"

Kurt wavered and then remembered how Blaine had reacted when he had failed to tell Rachel what he did for a living.

"Blaine's..." he started, uncertain. "Blaine's had it hard. He's had a lot of fighting to do. He's _still _fighting, every single day." He paused, breathed. "He ran away almost two years ago and..."

"And?" Santana prompted.

"And he's had to do a lot of things he isn't proud of. He still does."

Santana was watching him, dark eyes intent, but with a splash of confusion behind them. "What are you talking about?" she asked, finally.

"Blaine's a prostitute," he said a little more frantically than he would have preferred. "He... Blaine, he-he didn't think there was any other option and he _hates it_, but...I don't think he knows anything else any more."

Santana's reaction surprised him. There was no all-out laughter, no crude jokes or cruel insults. She simply sat there, expression solemn.

"Rachel, she thinks I'm insane. She treats him like he's some sort of-of _disease. _My dad thinks I'm with him because I pity him. Carole thinks I'm getting myself too far into something I don't understand. Finn...I don't even _know _what Finn thinks—"

"And what do you think?" she asked.

Kurt couldn't read her expression. "It is not pity. And, you know, most of the time I'm not sure what I'm doing and I spend a significant amount of time terrified that I'll handle things in the wrong way, but I think that would be the case in any relationship. I know it's different, I know that, but he's the one, Santana. I know it. It's corny and it's unrealistic, but it's true and I would be right by his side no matter what.

"Nobody else gets that. Everyone thinks I'm being irresponsible, or that I'm getting myself into things I can't handle, but they don't know what it's like. They don't know him and they—well, Rachel—she doesn't even want to know him, she won't even _try_, even though I put up with her idiot...not-boyfriend roaming around half-naked all the damn time. It's just...it's hard."

"Sounds kind of like you are in deeper than you can handle."

Kurt looked up at her. "Maybe, but I wouldn't change that, not for anything. I'm handling it as best as I know how. He—I didn't choose this, Santana. I didn't choose to fall for someone everyone thinks of as an 'undesirable', but if I had it back, that first day, I would still go right up to him and introduce myself. Just..." He paused. "Before you make assumptions about him, get to know him. Don't...don't judge him because of what he's had to do."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Hummel, I am the last person who would judge someone on the impact life has had on them."

Kurt watched her, eyebrows knitted.

"I am from Lima Heights Adjacent, remember. People think that because of my Goddamned address, I'm going to take out a blade and demand they empty their pockets. I'm also a lesbian and we both know the stereotypes that come along with _that_."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "So you think you can be civil with him?"

"Hummel, _please. _Do you know anyone more civil than me?" She was smiling.

Kurt chuckled and stood up. "Goodnight, Santana," he said. "And thanks."

"No problem," she told him, sitting back comfortably. "I have a feeling this is going to be a great set-up. We've got the whole of Christmas to get to know each other again."

Kurt stopped still. "We've got the whole of _what?_"

* * *

**I'm going to get the next part up soon I swear okay this is a promise. Also, I'll get to replying to reviews and questions and stuff and also, to those asking, none of my other fics are abandoned, I'm working on everything. Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought? :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I own nothing. it's been far too long and I apologise once again. I hope you like this one, I edited and edited until I was happy with it. No warnings for this chapter really. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

Once upon a time, Christmas had been Blaine's favourite holiday. The cosy, winter nights, the smell of cinnamon, the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and the cheesy, holiday-themed movies which were only shown in December. New York was spectacular around Christmas time, it was like nothing he had ever seen, yet all it ever did was make him miserable.

Christmas, since Blaine had run away, held very little cause for celebration. Christmas was a time for family and friends and togetherness and Blaine had had none of that. Christmas days were spent alone in his cold apartment, TV set switched off, both to keep his electric bill down and to avoid the happy, family shows and the festive singing and the smiling faces. For Blaine, the holiday season was the worst time of the year, because it reminded him of just how alone he was and just how decrepit his life had become.

It frightened Blaine, how a holiday he had once loved could become something he dreaded, because that meant he was becoming jaded, tired and unfeeling. Christmas simply didn't feel like Christmas.

Blaine didn't get much work, he rarely did around this time, but he was doing okay, keeping his head above water. He had plans this year, had somewhere to be, someone to be with and that was what made this year so different to all those which had come before it. This year, he wasn't just another number in a crowded city, this year someone cared that he existed. Someone wanted him around.

Hymns and songs lifted his spirits like they hadn't done in a long time and the falling snow had him smiling, despite how cold it made his apartment. And then there was Kurt, with his scarves and his coffee and his red-tipped nose after coming in out of the cold, always smiling and humming a tune. Kurt, who gushed about how excited he was for Christmas when he would have both Blaine and his dad there, even though Santana would be there, too.

Santana, Blaine discovered, was not all as bad as her bark suggested. Of course, Blaine was sure that if pushed, she would definitely be a force to be reckoned with, but Santana was nice to him, she didn't treat him differently and she even cracked jokes about his job, which made Kurt go rigid, but there was something comforting about it, something that made Blaine feel like maybe his life wasn't such a big, serious deal, like he wasn't some kind of special case who had to be tip-toed around all the time. Blaine liked Santana, he far preferred her to Rachel and she always kept things real, never sugar coated anything or acted in a certain manner for anyone else's benefit. In fact, Blaine was sort of glad that she would be there for Christmas, because he was nervous and Santana always knew how to fill the awkward gaps (usually by making them more awkward, but in a way that deflected the attention from him).

Rachel, who was Jewish, was leaving New York to spend the holidays with her fathers on a cruise. She spent the night before at Brody's and went straight from his the following morning to meet her dads, so Blaine didn't have to see her. Blaine hadn't seen Brody again after their first encounter, but from what Kurt and Santana said, he was around a lot and Santana had a huge problem with that. She disliked Brody for reasons she couldn't even properly explain and Blaine laughed it off, but she never laughed about it. She only ever told them to mark her words before continuing to speculate about his apparent double life.

"He's a drug dealer," Santana announced on the afternoon of the 23rd of December. "He carries a beeper _and_ his skin is super shiny."

"What on earth does the condition of his skin have to do with drug dealing?" Kurt asked, placing a cup of hot coffee down in front of Blaine on the table, before sitting down, too.

Blaine gave Kurt a smile and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You can roll those pretty, little eyes all you want, Hummel, the guy's a dirtbag. Who knows what he gets up to when he rushes off after getting a freaking beep on his beeper thing, like he's Kim-frickin'-Possible? Or, God forbid, _who_ he gets up to—no offense, Blaine."

Blaine blinked.

"I mean, what kind of person carries a beeper? Like, be honest with me, Blaine, you've probably slept with some drug dealers in your time, did those guys carry beepers?"

"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed, horror on his face.

"Um," Blaine said.

"What?" Santana asked Kurt. "Look, you need to quit acting like the part of his life that doesn't concern you doesn't exist. I'm just being real here."

Kurt glared at her. "Every part of his life concerns me, how can you even say that?"

"All I'm saying is that not talking about it isn't gonna make it go away."

"You don't know anything about me and him!"

"I know that you're pretending to handle something you're not capable of!"

"I cannot believe you would say that."

"Oh, yeah? Why not? It's true."

"It is not!"

"Oh, please, Hummel, spare me the theatrics. Your boyfriend is a hooker and you act like everything is okay when we all know it isn't." She turned to Blaine. "I mean no disrespect, Blainers, but if I was dating someone who wasn't totally comfortable with who I was—"

Kurt looked shocked. "You are completely out of line—"

"—I would want to address it, too." She shrugged. "It's not you, it's him."

Kurt stood up and stormed away, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"That's it!" Santana called after him. "Storm out, just like Rachel." She shook her head and mumbled. "Frickin' drama queens."

Blaine sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Do you really think he's having that much of a hard time with it all?"

Santana only shrugged matter-of-factly.

Blaine nodded. "I should go talk to him."

"You should."

Blaine stood up and walked over to the bedroom door. He tapped lightly on it. "Kurt?" he said. "Can I come in?"

There was only silence. Blaine sighed again.

"Kurt, come on, let me in. We need to talk."

Silence again.

"Kurt?"

"The door's freaking open, Blaine, just come the hell in!"

Blaine smiled slightly and opened the door, then stepped inside. He closed it behind him and turned around to find Kurt sitting with his back to him on the bed. Blaine went closer and sat down next to him.

"Hey," he said.

Kurt looked sideways at him.

"Are you okay?"

Kurt shrugged. "Apparently not, according to your new BFF."

"My new BFF?" Blaine asked, nose wrinkling.

"Santana," Kurt supplied. "You two are awfully close these days, probably because she's oh-so comfortable with talking about all this...this _sex stuff_ and I'm not. Well, you know what, Blaine, I'm sorry I can't be that for you. I'm sorry you got stuck with the virgin who can't even watch porn without wanting to _die_—"

"Hey," Blaine said. "Hey, stop. Nobody is judging you for that. I'm not and I definitely wouldn't want you to be any different. And as for Santana being my best friend, she isn't. I've never really had a best friend, not until, well, not until...you."

"I'm your best friend?" Kurt asked, twisting around to face him.

Blaine nodded.

"You're mine, too."

"Not Rachel?" Blaine asked.

Kurt twisted his face. "As if anyone can bear Rachel these days."

Blaine laughed quietly. "I like Santana, Kurt, but that doesn't mean I want you to be like her. I'm dating _you_, not Santana and if you're not comfortable with talking about these things...casually, I guess, that's completely fine."

Kurt nodded.

"But—"

"Of course there's a but," Kurt said, sounding slightly panicked.

"But," Blaine repeated, "we do need to talk about it and make sure you're not actually pretending everything is fine when it isn't. You can't just say you're dealing with it because you think it's what I want to hear. If you're uncomfortable with anything, you need to tell me."

"I would tell you," Kurt said.

"Are you sure? How are you dealing with everything? "

"Fine, Blaine," Kurt said, quietly. "When I know where you are, it's okay."

Blaine eyed him for a moment. He didn't look at all convincing.

"You wouldn't lie to me, right?"

Kurt lifted his head, paused and then sighed. "Look, it's not ideal and I won't ever be completely comfortable with it, but it's what you do and I'm getting there. I'm adapting, so please, _please_, just let me adapt."

Blaine nodded, getting it. "Okay," he said. "You're right. But you'll talk to me if there's ever anything, won't you?"

"Of course," Kurt replied.

"Good," he answered. "Hey, you know what else?"

"What?"

"Last time I checked, you weren't a virgin."

That brought a smile out of Kurt. "Shut up," he said with a chuckle.

Blaine grinned and elbowed him playfully. "Well, it's true," he said. "I'm also totally fine with you not watching porn. You'd make me jealous."

Kurt shook his head and covered his smile with his hands. "I'm literally blushing because you said the word 'porn'."

"How about sexy movies? Is that better?"

"Now you're just making fun of me," Kurt said, giving him a wide smile. "Do you want to help me with some shopping?"

Blaine smiled back. "Let's go."

* * *

"Are you sure you won't stay?" Kurt asked. He slipped his arms around Blaine's neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Blaine's arms encircled Kurt's waist. "No, you need to be up early to get ready for your dad coming. You know how I am with early mornings."

Kurt pouted. "Okay," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

Blaine nodded. "And I will see you Christmas day."

"Christmas day," Kurt repeated, grinning. "It's going to be perfect."

"Yes," Blaine said, smile strained. "Perfect."

* * *

Blaine was at the same club that he had gone to the night that Kurt had followed him. Luckily, tonight Kurt hadn't done so. In fact, Kurt was under the impression that Blaine was at home. Blaine felt guilty for lying to him, but he needed to do this, needed to make up the money to get Kurt a suitable gift. Unfortunately, on that particular night, it was extremely quiet. The bar had a few people at it and some couples were dancing, but it didn't look very promising, so Blaine turned to leave. However, as he walked across the dance floor, a hand touched his shoulder and he swung around on instinct.

"Hello, Blaine."

Blaine took a step backwards, away from the other man's reach.

"Antonio," Blaine greeted, stiffly.

Antonio gave him a slow smile. "No crazy boyfriend today?"

Blaine frowned. "My boyfriend is not crazy. He just...worries. He's entitled to that."

"Hmm," Antonio replied. "We sit?"

Blaine hesitated. "Actually, I was just—"

"I have money," Antonio informed him. "I show you in advance, yes?"

Blaine wavered on his feet. He looked around. It didn't look as if he was going to have much luck tonight and even if he went somewhere else, it was still the night before Christmas eve. He sighed.

"Okay, fine," he told Antonio. "But try anything funny and the deal's off. This happens on my terms."

Antonio nodded and extended an arm. "Shall we?"

Blaine sighed and looped his arm through his.

Blaine rolled over onto the other side of the bed and closed his eyes. Antonio was still panting next to him, a smug grin on his face. Blaine was left feeling rather underwhelmed, but he didn't care, he already had $150 safely tucked into the pocket of his pants. The only downside was that they still had another hour.

"So, the crazy boyfriend is busy today?" Antonio asked, once he had caught his breath.

"It's Christmas, he's got stuff to prepare for," Blaine replied, not really wanting to share much of his personal life with a complete stranger.

"And you are not with him to prepare?"

Blaine paused. "Um, I kind of need the money fast, so..."

"So...?"

"So, I'm here," Blaine finished.

"The boyfriend does not like me very much."

"He doesn't have to like you. He doesn't even know you."

Antonio shifted next to him and Blaine opened his eyes to watch what he was doing, which turned out to be nothing other than getting comfortable.

"He would not be happy you are here with me today, no?"

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," Blaine said, stomach twisting with guilt. "Besides, this is for him," he added, trying to make himself feel better. "He deserves something nice for dealing with all of...well, me."

Antonio only stared and it was making him uncomfortable.

Blaine cleared his throat. "So, um, the fiancée. Where is she right now?"

Antonio's smile didn't flinch. "She is at home."

Blaine nodded at the ceiling. "Can I ask you something?"

Antonio shrugged a shoulder.

"Are you gay?"

Finally, Antonio's smile dropped. He didn't say anything, just began picking at the stray threads of the blanket under them.

"You don't have to tell me," Blaine went on. "I mean, maybe you don't even know and that's okay, too. I mean, labels, they're kind of stupid sometimes." He shrugged. "I just can't help but wonder if you're getting married for, you know, someone else. I mean, I think my dad would have liked for me to marry a nice American girl, but that's just...not something I could ever do and I just can't help but wonder why you would, if that is the case." He stopped and blinked a few times. "It's none of my business, I know."

Antonio let out a long sigh. "My family is very strict," he told Blaine. "Telling the truth to them, it would not be easy."

"And marrying a girl you don't want to be with is?"

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Can I ask you question now?"

"Sure," Blaine said.

"Do you like what you do?"

Blaine didn't even have to think about that. "No," he said, firmly.

"And if you had pretended, you would be here now?"

Blaine thought about it. If he had never come out, he and his parents probably wouldn't have fought so often and he would never have ran away, thus no prostituting himself.

"I guess not."

"You see?" Antonio said. "For me, this is easier option."

"I could never hide like that," Blaine told him. "I'm not saying you're wrong for doing what you are, but personally, I could never do it. This is who I am. If people don't like that, there's nothing I can do about it, but I won't change. Besides, if I hadn't come here, I never would have met K—my boyfriend."

"I am not sure we are so different," Antonio apprised Blaine. "We are both cheating on our partners, are we not?"

Blaine didn't say anything for a moment, although his first instinct was to deny it, but when he thought about it, he guessed there was some truth in that statement, he just didn't like it.

"He doesn't think of it like that," Blaine said.

"Do you?"

"I try not to."

"Hmm."

"He knows I'm doing it," Blaine pointed out.

"This makes it better?"

He sighed. "I don't know. It's not like I have much of a choice. I've tried to get away from it, but I can't and...I don't know why I'm even telling you any of this."

"Maybe because you are aware we are similar in many ways."

Blaine couldn't hide the grimace. "Look, do you think you're ready for round two? Normally, I wouldn't think so, but sex seems like a better option than talking right now. At least I'm not likely to have a breakdown during sex."

With sex he knew what he was doing.

Antonio pushed himself up and yawned. "I do not think I am ready yet," he said. "I am not so young any more."

Blaine sighed. "Okay," he said, settling back against the pillows again.

"Do you have other job?"

Blaine sighed a second time. "No."

"You go to school?"

"No," Blaine said again.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?" Blaine snapped. "This really isn't any of your business."

"I am just wonder what you will do in some years from now."

Blaine didn't reply to that. He didn't like to think about the future. It all seemed so out of reach and devoid of any promise whatsoever.

"And your crazy boyfriend is okay with you to do this forever?"

"Look, you're not exactly squeaky clean yourself. I mean, at least the person I'm with is someone I'm actually attracted to and if I lose him that's my own fault, but you are living a lie. The guy you are when you're with your fiancée is a fraud. It's fake. It's not you, so don't lay there and judge me for what I've had to do."

Blaine felt the hot gaze of Antonio's dark eyes burning into him. He looked him from the top of his head down to the tip of his toes and back again. Blaine's cheeks went pink.

"And this," Antonio said, "this is real you?"

Blaine closed his eyes and fought the urge to cry. He waited a while before opening them. "Look, you've got 43 minutes left. Do you want to make good use of them or just keep on sitting here playing Dr Phil?"

Antonio seemed to consider the options. "Perhaps I can do something for you?" His eyes fell down to Blaine's lower half.

"No," Blaine said instantly. "I mean, that's okay."

"I have the feeling not many care about you when you are with them like this."

"They don't have to care. You're paying me, I'm not paying you. It doesn't matter what you all think of me or what you do or don't want to happen to me. I'm here to be used so will you quit getting deep and use me? Please?"

Antonio studied him briefly. "Hmm, no." He smiled. "Not today." He pushed himself up. "I will leave now and you can get back to help the crazy boyfriend with preparations."

Blaine watched in awe as he stood and began dressing. "Um, are you sure?"

"Yes, you keep all the money we agreed," Antonio told him.

Blaine got up and began dressing, too. "You're not really what I expected," he told Antonio. "That was a compliment, by the way."

"In that case, I say thank you," Antonio replied. "Do you need ride?"

"No, thanks," he said. "I'm fine."

Antonio nodded. "Well, I will go now. Happy Holidays to you, Blaine."

"Yeah," Blaine said, giving him a faint smile. "Happy Holidays, Antonio. And good luck with...everything."

"You, too. Good luck with crazy boyfriend."

"He's not crazy," Blaine said, smile increasing.

"If you say so," Antonio said. "Adios, Blaine."

And he left.

* * *

Blaine set his alarm for 7am the following morning. He showered, dressed and went into the city to do his shopping. Kurt called him at lunch time to let him know his dad had arrived safely and that everything was going to plan and asked if he wanted to meet up for coffee in a few hours while his dad had a nap. Blaine said he did and rushed home with his shopping bags. He freshened up and went to meet Kurt, a smile on his face. This Christmas was turning out better than any he could recall. Maybe things really were looking up.

* * *

Kurt arrived home from having coffee with Blaine on Christmas eve at 7pm. Santana was in the kitchen making jell-o.

"How many of those are you making?" Kurt asked, eyeing the several bowls covering the table. He unfurled his scarf from around his neck and began unbuttoning his coat.

"You can never have enough jell-o at Christmas," Santana informed him. "How's my favourite little hooker?"

"Santana," Kurt warned with a frown.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said.

"Blaine is fine," Kurt told her anyway. "Where's my dad?"

"In the spare room," Santana said. "He asked me about Blaine, you know."

This piqued Kurt's interest. "What did he say? What did _you_ say?"

Santana gave him a shrug. "He just wanted to know what I thought of him, so I told him."

Kurt watched her intently. "You...like Blaine, though, right?"

Santana began pouring boiling water from the kettle into yet another large, plastic bowl. "He's probably the coolest prostitute I know."

"Santana, be serious."

"I am being serious," she told him as she walked towards the refrigerator, grabbing two bowls on the way. "I like him fine," she said. "Damn, there's not enough room in here."

"Just rearrange the top shelf," Kurt suggested. "Did you tell my dad you like him?"

"Jeez, Hummel, what's got you so worried? I thought you wanted the two main men in your life to meet."

"I can't believe you just said those words—"

"What are you so afraid of?"

Kurt sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. Santana closed the refrigerator door and turned around. She rested her elbows on the countertop and watched him.

"I just don't want there to be any kind of awkwardness between them," Kurt confessed. "I'm just worried someone will say something that someone else doesn't like and everything will blow up. They're both really important to me and my dad is on the fence about it all anyway. I just want them to get along."

"What about Blaine?" Santana asked. "How does he feel?"

Kurt shrugged. "I feel like I'm forcing him into something he doesn't want to do, even though he keeps insisting that's not the case. Has he said anything to you?"

"Why would he say anything to me?"

"Because I think you might be the only friend he's got besides me. He's mentioned that one other guy, um, Sam, I think, but I don't think he's seen him in a long time." Kurt looked up at her. "So, has he? I won't tell him you told me."

Santana stood up straight and rolled her eyes. "He hasn't said a word. He's excited. Quit your babbling and your craziness and go do whatever it is you do during this gay and festive time."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "Alright," he said. "You had better clean up this mess," he said, surveying the kitchen, which was covered in jell-o packets and utensils.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, going back to the refrigerator. "Everything will be back where it belongs, don't get your panties in a twist."

Kurt stood up and pushed his chair in. "Hey, Santana."

"What?" she muttered, taking the milk out.

"Did Blaine really say he's excited?"

"Go away, Hummel!"

Kurt chuckled and went to his room to do some last minute gift-wrapping.

* * *

Burt Hummel watched the horror and panic grow on his son's face at the sound of the doorbell. Kurt stood up from the couch and brushed his thighs down, then hurried across the apartment. Burt expected him to open the door, but instead, he stopped in front of a small mirror and began fixing his hair.

He had never seen his son like this, not really—flustered over a guy. Burt had known about Kurt's brief crush on Finn, but he had been young then and he regretted it now, he made that very clear. Nobody else had ever caught Kurt's eye back in Lima, at least not to Burt's knowledge. In New York, everything seemed so different and seeing Kurt like that, liking someone enough to care what they thought of his hair and his clothes and the way he had set the table (he had changed it four times in the past hour alone), really showed Burt just how much his son belonged here in this huge city, where his potential would be fulfilled.

However, Burt couldn't help worrying about Kurt's prostitute boyfriend. Whom he was about to meet. If Kurt ever opened the door.

"Kurt," Burt said. "You gonna get that?"

Kurt's eyes went wide and he turned around and seemed to take a deep breath. Burt turned away, not wanting to look as if he was dying to get a look at this guy, even though he definitely was.

"Blaine," he heard Kurt say a little breathlessly behind him.

"Hi," the other voice, which obviously belonged to Blaine, said. "Am I early?"

He didn't sound old enough to be doing what he was.

"No, no, you're fine. It's fine. What's that?" Kurt answered and Burt heard the door closing.

"Oh, it's, um, a cake," the other voice said and Burt, despite facing the television, could hear the bashfulness in the boy's voice. "And these are cookies."

"You baked these?" Kurt asked, voice going a tad higher.

"I, um, wanted to contribute something."

He could hear the smile in Kurt's voice then. "You're just... You're something else, Blaine Anderson." There was a pause and then Kurt cleared his throat. "Here, let me put those down for you. This is great, actually. The only dessert we could fit in our fridge was jell-o. A lot of jell-o."

Blaine let out a small and nervous laugh and then there was a crash and a billowing voice.

"Blainers," it said and Burt saw Santana crossing the room out of the corner of his eye. "You're here. Where's my present?"

"Santana!" Kurt hissed.

"No, it's fine," Blaine said, quickly. "It's here. Here. I've got yours, too."

"Blaine," Kurt said, "you didn't have to—"

Burt heard the sound of paper being torn and then Santana spoke over his son. "Earrings," she said. "Awesome. Thanks, Blainers, you're the best. I've got yours in my room." She lowered her voice then, but Burt could still hear her. "It's a little risqué—"

"Okay!" Kurt said quickly. "Blaine, I want you to meet my dad."

"I'll go stare at the dripping faucet in the bathroom," Santana said, sounding bored.

Burt sat staring at the TV and only turned around when Kurt appeared at his side.

"Dad?"

Burt shifted around in his seat and looked up at his son, who was watching him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Next to him, was a boy. He was shorter than Kurt. His hair was dark and slicked back with some kind of product and his eyes were big and round. He was holding a carrier bag. He looked even more nervous than Kurt and Burt was rendered speechless. This boy, this Blaine, was nothing like the man he had been expecting. This Blaine, he was...a _child_.

* * *

"Dad?" Kurt repeated.

Kurt's dad was the opposite of Kurt in every single way. The solitary similarity was in the eyes: Both Kurt and his father had kind eyes.

Blaine watched as Kurt's dad got to his feet and cleared his throat. "You must be Blaine," he said, offering him a hand. "Burt Hummel."

Blaine accepted the handshake. "Blaine Anderson," he told Kurt's dad. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Burt Hummel said and they let their hands fall again. "Kurt tells me you're from Ohio, too."

Blaine glanced down at his feet and lifted his gaze to Kurt's dad again. "Um, yes. Westerville."

"Not that far," Burt said with a nod.

Blaine nodded, too and looked back down at his feet awkwardly. Luckily, Kurt took a small step forward and spoke.

"Dad, why don't you finish watching...whatever it is that you're watching and Blaine can come help me in the kitchen."

"Um, sure," Blaine said. He gave Burt a crooked smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Hummel," he said again, before following Kurt, who was holding the box which Blaine had brought with him, into the kitchen space.

"You're nervous," Kurt observed.

"Wouldn't you be?" he asked.

Kurt blinked at him a few times, before opening the box. "I guess," he said. "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better about it. If it's any consolation, he's probably just as nervous as you are."

"I doubt that," Blaine said, quietly.

Kurt dropped the box of cookies back down onto the countertop and went round it. He stopped in front of Blaine and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.

"It's going to be okay," he told him. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Good," Kurt replied and beamed at him. "Dinner's ready. Give you your present later?"

Blaine smiled back. "Deal."

"You can do this," Kurt said, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

Blaine nodded and although he wasn't entirely convinced, he spoke confidently, "I can do this."

* * *

At the dinner table, Kurt and Santana tried their best to keep the conversation going. Burt was speaking every so often and Blaine nodded in agreement a little awkwardly and things weren't going as well as Kurt had hoped.

"I mean, forgive me if I'm wrong, but if Christmas is supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus or whatever, why do we eat a turkey? Shouldn't it be cake?" Santana asked. "I bet there's a story behind this. A story I don't want to know, by the way, before any of you pull it out of your ass and try to lecture me on it."

Nobody said anything in reply, but Burt chuckled. Kurt looked down at his plate awkwardly and then tried to strike up a conversation again.

"So, um, they're showing 'Singin' in the Rain' tonight."

Santana looked at him like she was disappointed. Blaine nodded and dropped his gaze. Burt looked across as Kurt.

"I remember watching that movie with you when you were about nine," he said. "Didn't have a clue what was going on, but I watched it all the way through. It was our first Christmas without your mom."

Kurt nodded and smiled sadly. "I remember," he said. "You didn't turn the oven on, so we didn't have a turkey."

"Ate take out from the Chinese place," Burt added.

"I remember thinking it would never get better."

"But it did," Burt said.

"Yeah, it did," Kurt agreed.

"Jeez, you guys are depressing," Santana told them. "Doesn't anyone have any happy stories?" She looked at Blaine. "How about you, Anderson? Got any happy Christmas tales?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not that I can remember." He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I was too young to remember the good ones, I guess."

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You can't remember having one good Christmas?" Burt asked.

"Not really," Blaine answered. "It's always been the same thing for as long as I can remember. Lots of people came to the house, or we'd go to them. I'd get stuck with either the older or younger kids and our parents would brag about us. Same thing every year. Um, until mine stopped."

Burt didn't say anything, just watched him curiously.

"Your parents sound like asses," Santana said, bluntly.

Kurt didn't disagree and neither did Burt. Blaine shrugged.

"One Christmas, they went on a cruise," he said. "So, it was just me and my brother." He smiled slightly. "That was a good Christmas."

Everyone nodded uncomfortably and Kurt gave Blaine a smile. They ate in silence until Santana stood up to get dessert.

* * *

"So," Kurt said, looking between his dad and Blaine where they sat in the living room space after dinner, " you may be wondering why I banished Santana and summoned you both here today."

Burt and Blaine exchanged a glance on instinct and then looked away quickly again.

"Well, the reason is that six days ago," Kurt went on, "I received a letter from a little establishment called the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, or NYADA."

Blaine sat up straight and Burt leaned forward just a little bit.

"Broadway superstar and talented opera singer, Carmen Tibideaux, the Dean of Vocal Performance and Song Interpretation, re-reviewed my audition piece from last May and studied the audition tape I sent off with my application some weeks ago and," he said, suppressing his smile, "instead of becoming a mere finalist, like I did last time, I have simply been accepted." He gave in to the grin. "I start in January."

"I knew you could do it!" Burt said, getting to his feet to pull Kurt into a tight embrace.

Kurt laughed as his father told him how proud he was and how he just knew he would make it, that 'that school wouldn't make the same mistake twice, for crying out loud!'. Blaine was still seated, hands folded in his lap. Kurt looked at him from over his dad's shoulder, trying to work out if he was happy for him.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" Burt asked, easing out of the hug. "I'm gonna go call Carole. Boy, is she gonna be happy!"

Kurt chuckled as his dad walked into the kitchen area for the phone. When he was out of earshot, Kurt turned his attention to Blaine.

"So," he said. "You're quiet."

Blaine shrugged. "I wanted to give you a minute with your dad."

Kurt gave him a slow nod and then went to sit beside him. "You are happy for me, right?"

Blaine's mouth fell open and his eyes widened. "What?" he asked. "Kurt. Of course I'm happy for you!" He reached out and took Kurt's hands in his own. "Nobody deserves this more than you do and I knew you could do it. I am so, so happy for you."

Kurt gave him a small smile. "Okay," he said, quietly. He looked up and met his eyes. "Then what is it? Why do you look like...like that?"

Blaine let out a sigh. "Sorry," he said, turning Kurt's hands in his. "I'm sorry. I know it looks like… Kurt," he said in a whisper. He looked up into his eyes. "I'm just tired—"

Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled his hands from Blaine's grasp. "That's what everyone says when something is wrong."

"Kurt," Blaine said again, chasing his hands. "Nothing is wrong."

"You said you'd talk to me if there was ever—"

"I thought it was _you_ who said you'd talk to _me_—"

"Blaine," Kurt warned.

"Sorry," Blaine said. He gave Kurt's hands a squeeze. "Sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. Trust me when I say I'm happy for you, okay? Because I am. I am, Kurt and I know it seems like I'm hiding things from you, but I'm not. Today has just been…"

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Scary?" Blaine offered. "Daunting."

Kurt looked up slowly. "Is that all it is?" he asked. "You're nervous because of my dad?"

Kurt felt relieved, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"It's just that it hasn't been going how I hoped," Blaine said. "I don't think he likes me much, but that doesn't matter. We need to celebrate you."

Kurt smiled down at their hands.

"Your dad's right, you know," Blaine told him. "They wouldn't make the same mistake twice. NYADA is lucky to have you."

Kurt pulled Blaine into a hug. "My dad does like you, by the way," he whispered. "He's just as nervous as you are."

"I doubt it," Blaine said again with a chuckle.

"It'll be okay," Kurt said, kissing his temple. "I promise."

* * *

Blaine stood by the window, watching as the snow came down, thick and fast. The street was empty and the ground was a blanket of white beneath the street lights. He smiled. It was a beautiful night.

"Really coming down out there, isn't it?"

Blaine swung around to find Kurt's father standing there.

"Yeah," Blaine said, looking back out the window.

"Pretty, though."

Blaine only nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Can I say something?"

"Sure," Blaine said, facing him.

"This...job of yours," Burt began, "you don't really seem like the type of person I'd expect to be doing that kind of thing."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't think you have to be any 'type'," he told Burt. "Sometimes you just find yourself in situations you never imagined you'd find yourself in and you don't know how to get out of it."

"That what happened to you?"

He only nodded.

"And you can't get out of it," Burt said.

"I don't know anything else," he said. "It's hard to explain. I know a lot of people wouldn't understand. I mean, I should be able to just walk away, but...I can't. It's all I know. Without it, I wouldn't have anything."

"You'd have Kurt."

Blaine looked up, surprise plain on his face. "I have Kurt."

Burt didn't reply to that, only hummed. "You plannin' on doing this forever?"

"I don't really have any plans."

"But if you don't know how to get out of it, if you can't, then how will you ever? Doesn't it seem like it's always gonna be like this?"

Blaine looked down. "I'm hoping not."

Burt glanced across at Kurt, who was singing quietly in the kitchen. "Kurt's future is looking bright. Getting into that school and all."

Blaine nodded. "He deserves it so much."

"I know he does," Burt agreed. "He's always dreamt of making it big. Always knew he would. This is the start. He's gonna be learning a lot of new things, meeting a lot of new people."

Blaine nodded again. That felt like a stab, but he didn't say anything about it.

"You live far from here?"

"Um, not really," Blaine told Burt.

"You walk?"

"Took a cab," Blaine said.

Burt leaned forward a little. "Doesn't seem to be many cabs out."

Blaine nodded. He wasn't sure if Burt was hinting that it was getting late and that he should go. He was feeling rather unwelcome all of a sudden. He cleared his throat. "I guess I should get going," he said, turning around. "It's getting kind of late."

Kurt stopped doing the dishes and looked up when Blaine crossed the room.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm gonna get going," Blaine told him. "Um, thank you for having me." He turned around to look at Kurt's father. "It was nice meeting you, Mr Hummel. Merry Christmas."

He gave a final smile, before heading for the door. Santana was on the couch, watching TV. She looked up at him.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Blaine," Kurt said, behind him.

"It's late," Blaine told Santana, before looking at Kurt, who had come closer.

"You cannot go out in that," Kurt declared. "I didn't even give you your present yet."

"I kind of want to get out before midnight," Blaine said. "You know, before all the crazies come out."

"You can't walk home by yourself at this time of night," Kurt told him. "And don't you dare tell me you're used to it."

Blaine gave him a weak smile. "Okay," he said. "But I am going to head out. I just...think it would be better if I did, okay? Thank you for inviting me, I had a great time."

Kurt was studying him carefully. "Blaine…" he said, but Blaine shook his head.

"It's getting late," he said again. "I'll text you when I'm home and I'll call you tomorrow." He leaned in close and pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Goodnight, Kurt."

Before Kurt could protest, he grabbed his jacket, headed out the door and walked quickly down the hall until he reached the elevator. He got inside and waited until it reached the bottom floor. He pushed his way out into the cool night where he could finally breathe.

* * *

"What did you say to him?" Kurt demanded to know.

Burt shrugged and sat down beside Santana.

"Dad," Kurt said. "What did you say? Do you know how dangerous it is out there? He's got over a thirty minute walk!"

"I didn't say anything," Burt told Kurt.

"You had to have said something to make him up and leave like that," Kurt reasoned. "I have to go after him," he said, grabbing his coat.

"It's freezing out there," Burt protested.

"Exactly, Dad," Kurt said, angrily. "It's freezing and my boyfriend is out there, alone."

"Gotta agree with him, Mr H," Santana said, eyes still on the TV set. "Blainers is all little and innocent looking. It's what makes him such a smash with all the old pervs."

"Santana," Kurt said with a groan.

"It's true," she said.

"He's a lot more grown up than you're giving him credit for," Burt announced.

"You don't even know him," Kurt exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Exactly my point, Kurt."

"Look, I'll go," Santana said over them.

"It's fine, I'm going," Kurt told her.

"Kurt—"

"Don't even bother," Kurt said, before slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

Once downstairs, Kurt went outside and the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. He wrapped his coat around him and walked as quickly as his feet allowed him in the snow and the slush. It didn't take him long to find Blaine. He was a little bit up the street when Kurt turned the corner and he was walking relatively slowly.

"Blaine!" Kurt called, but Blaine didn't hear him.

He pushed himself to walk a little faster and only caught up to Blaine when he stood at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the lights to change so that he could cross the street. There weren't many cars on the road, but Blaine always waited.

"Blaine," Kurt said, breathlessly.

Blaine spun around and looked at him through half-closed eyes. His nose was red.

"Kurt," was all he said.

"Blaine, come on, come back, we can talk," he urged. "Please, Blaine."

"Kurt, I need to get home."

"I'll just keep following you," Kurt told him. He could barely see him with the way the snow was falling so quickly. "Don't think I won't."

Blaine looked conflicted. "I know you will." He sighed. "Kurt, I don't want to be where I'm in the way."

"You are not in the way," Kurt said, solemnly. "Whatever my dad said, he is wrong."

Blaine shook his head. "He's not wrong, Kurt," he said. "He's completely right."

Kurt frowned. "Please, Blaine. Come back with me. You can stay over. Please."

"Kurt—"

"Please, Blaine," Kurt said, again. "I'm freezing my ass off out here. And so are you. Please, let's go back."

His teeth were chattering and his skin stung from the cold. Blaine eyed him for a moment, before sighing again, shoulders sagging.

"Okay," he said. "But only because you look as if you're turning blue and you're stubborn. I know you'll follow me."

Kurt smiled and reached out for Blaine's hand. Blaine accepted. "Come on."

* * *

Once back at the apartment, Kurt and Blaine hung their coats up. Kurt took Blaine into his room and gave him some clothes to change into. They both changed and then went back out into the living room, where Burt was reading the newspaper. Santana had gone to her room.

"Dad," Kurt said, sitting down and beckoning Blaine to sit down next to him. He did.

Burt looked up from the paper.

"Can we talk?" Kurt asked.

"Talk," Burt said, shrugging.

Kurt looked at Blaine, who took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

"Mr Hummel," he began. "I know you're worried about Kurt and I know that anything you say or do is just because you love him and want to keep him safe. I want that, too. I'm trying to keep him as far away from everything as possible. I know he worries and I know it's the complete opposite of ideal, but I'm just too selfish to give him up right now."

"I don't want you to give me up," Kurt added.

Blaine smiled in response, then looked back to Burt. "I know it seems like I'm stuck and I am, I know that, but I'm going to figure it out. Some day. I'm not sure how yet, or even when, but I want to. For Kurt and for myself. Because he deserves something better than what I'm giving him at the moment. I know saying it isn't the same as doing it, but I'll get there and hopefully Kurt will want to stick around until I do." He paused. "I know it all seems like false promises, but I really, really care about Kurt. I won't let him get hurt. I swear it and you might not believe me right now, but that's the truth."

Kurt smiled. "He means it, Dad."

"Of course you think he means it, you want to see the good in everyone, Kurt."

"Dad," Kurt said with a sigh. "Give him a chance."

Burt sighed then, too. "Look, it isn't easy." He looked at Blaine. "You get that, right?"

Blaine nodded instantly. "I know," he said. "It's a lot to take in and to get used to."

"Right," Burt said. "I know you don't wanna be doing this either, but I'm looking out for my kid. He's gotta come first for me."

"He comes first for me, too," Blaine informed him.

Kurt glanced at him, a little surprised.

"Good, we're on the same page," Burt said. He stood up and folded the newspaper. "I'm going to turn in," he said. "I'll stay in Rachel's room. You've got the double bed in your room, Kurt, makes more sense, seeing as there's two of you."

Blaine raised his eyebrows and Kurt's mouth dropped open slightly.

"Keep in mind the walls here are paper thin," Burt added, as he walked away. "Night, boys."

They watched as he headed into Rachel's room and shut the door behind him. Neither of them spoke for a few heartbeats.

"Was that…" Blaine tried. "Is that...good?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, not sounding at all convincing. "No, yeah, that was good. This is good." He gave Blaine a grin.

"I feel like there's a catch."

"My dad's not the type," Kurt said, getting to his feet. "Come on, let's go to bed, okay?"

Blaine waited a moment, before standing up, too. "Okay."

* * *

Blaine climbed into the bed just as Kurt slipped in the door holding a plate of the cookies which Blaine had made.

"You know, those shows you're always watching paid off. These cookies are actually really, really good," Kurt told Blaine, closing the door behind him. "I'm still freezing, by the way."

"Well, hurry up and get in here," Blaine said with a smile.

"I will, just one sec," he said, leaving the cookies down on the bedside table. He walked to the closet and opened the door, before rummaging inside.

Blaine watched him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Gift exchange, remember?" came Kurt's muffled voice.

Blaine nodded slowly. "Oh," he said. He got to his feet and dug inside his jacket pockets, before going back to the bed. Kurt came out then, holding a box wrapped in green and red paper. He was grinning.

"Should I go first or do you want to?" he asked Blaine.

Suddenly, Blaine felt inferior. Kurt's gift was a lot bigger than his.

"Um," he began, "I'll go." He took one of the small boxes in his hand and handed it to Kurt. "It's nothing much," he said. Kurt began tearing the wrapping paper. "I just saw it and it reminded me of you."

Kurt had the paper off and he lifted the lid. Blaine's heart stopped.

"Oh, my God," Blaine whispered. "That's the wrong one," he said a little frantically. He reached out for the box, but Kurt pulled back a little.

"The wrong one," Kurt repeated, eyes on the box. "As in...for someone else?"

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "What? No," he said. "No, of course not. It's just…" He shook his head. "That one is homemade. I changed my mind about giving it to you."

Kurt's eyes were still on the box. He took the small, wire ring out and studied it. It was far from perfect and Blaine wasn't satisfied with it. He had used up a lot of wire trying to perfect it, but never quite managed to. The small bow was lopsided and the wire was crooked.

"Why?" Kurt asked.

"It's not right," he explained. "And it's cheap."

"Blaine," Kurt said, half sighing.

"It was supposed to be a sort of...promise ring," he said, weakly. "I just...wanted you to know that you mean a lot to me and that even though I'm with, you know, all these guys practically all the time, you're the only one I really want to be with. I'm promising that you're the only one." He paused, then spoke again. "I didn't think of it before, but after tonight...after what I said to your dad about wanting to change, about wanting to be...well, not what I am now, I want to add that to my promises to you. I want you to know that I am going to work at making it happen. I'm going to get there. All of those promises, they're in that ring."

"Blaine," Kurt said again. "This is beautiful. Why would you change your mind about this? This is...it's the nicest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever given me."

"It's cheap, Kurt," Blaine protested. "I also got you this," he said, handing him the other box. It looked the same.

Kurt shook his head and opened it. Inside this box was a small brooch in the shape of shoes. They had red and silver studs on them.

"This is not cheap," Kurt commented. "Why would you spend that much money on me, Blaine? You can't afford this."

Blaine shrugged. "I wanted to," he said. "I saved up. I saw it and they reminded me of Dorothy's slippers and I thought of you and I really wanted you to have it. So, I saved up."

Kurt looked conflicted. "I'm sorry. I sound really ungrateful. I just don't want you to spend money you don't have. I love it, it's beautiful, but we should return it. Keep the money. Spend it on something you need."

"Kurt," Blaine said. "I can't give you a lot. I've given you nothing since we started dating. Please, just take this one thing. I want you to. I only ever made that money so that I could get you this."

Kurt sighed and then gave Blaine a small smile. "You take my breath away," he said. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"I'd do anything for you." He said it before thinking it through. He wasn't sure he could quit for Kurt. He wished he could.

"I love it," Kurt told him. "And this ring is so cute." He slipped it onto his ring finger. "I'm never taking it off."

Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief and his heart twisted happily in his chest. "Are you sure you like them?"

"I love them," Kurt said and nothing on his face or in his voice indicated otherwise. "Now it's my turn."

"I hope it's nothing extravagant," Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed the box into Blaine's lap. "You'll like it. At least, I hope you will."

Blaine ripped the paper off carefully. This was the first gift he had gotten since before he had left Ohio. He felt nervous and excited and a little guilty. Finally, he got the paper off and underneath was a box with a picture of a stereo on it. Blaine looked up at Kurt.

"It's nothing too special," Kurt said. "You're really hard to buy for." He smiled. "I thought about getting you a lot of things. Clothes, mostly. I thought about stuff for your apartment. I even considered a bed, but it all felt too...wrong." He shrugged. "All those things are things I would get you without there being an occasion. I tried to think of something you would really like, something you'd want to use. The only thing I've ever seen you really passionate about is music." He shrugged again and Blaine could tell he was nervous. "I thought we could go shopping sometime for some CDs, but until then, I put one inside." There was a small smile on his lips.

Blaine looked down at the box and opened it slowly. He pulled the stereo out, pushing the styrofoam back into the box and unravelled the wires. Kurt took the plug and stuck it into the socket in the wall. Blaine fiddled with the buttons and finally got it switched on.

"Is this going to be loud?" he asked, aware of Kurt's father next door.

"Just put it on low," Kurt instructed. "I feel kind of silly about it now."

Blaine didn't reply, just pressed the play button and waited. Static filled the air and then there was silence, followed by Kurt's voice.

"Hi, Blaine. It's probably Christmas now that you're hearing this. You've probably met my dad by now. It probably went okay. I hope." He chuckled. "I hope you had a good day and I hope you like your present. This is the first song I ever sang to you."

After that, there was faint piano music and Kurt began singing 'Catch a Falling Star'. He let it play all the way through, his insides twirling and diving and singing. It was just a song, but it was the first time anyone had blatantly dedicated a song to him. It was the greatest gift he had ever gotten.

Once the song ended, Kurt reached out and switched the player off. He smiled. "There's a couple more. You can listen to those later. If you want."

Blaine didn't reply with words, he simply placed everything down on the floor and then pushed Kurt back against the pillows and kissed him until his lips felt bruised. At that point, he pulled back a little and gave him a smile.

"So, I take it you like it," Kurt said, smirking.

"I love it," he answered. "But I wish you hadn't spent so much on me."

"Blaine, it's Christmas," Kurt reasoned. "It's allowed."

Blaine smiled. "Even so," he said. "I did have a good day, by the way. It was a little awkward and sometimes, I felt like I didn't belong there, but it was good. And it turned out better than I could have ever imagined."

"You'll always belong here, Blaine."

"Thank you."

Kurt smiled back at him. "Wanna make out some more?"

"Do you think your dad is going to sense it and come in here?"

"Yes, Blaine, because my dad has superhero senses." He rolled his eyes. "Come on, kiss me."

Blaine obliged. He kissed him briefly and then pulled back again. "I know it's after midnight, but merry Christmas, Kurt."

Kurt's smile grew. "Merry Christmas, Blaine."

This time, when they kissed, Blaine didn't pull back.

* * *

**Don't go too hard on Burt? lol he's just looking out for Kurt. Let me know what you thought? I'll update soon :)**


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